Be Careful What You Wish For
by The Necroposter
Summary: What if Breaking Dawn wasn't a Mary Sue fantasy, but a story with a plot, character development, and consequences? What if Bella's transformation actually was a sacrifice, and not only her getting used to an alien body was a challenge, but also staying alive in a world filled with enemies? Find out how a naive, selfish girl grows up and copes with the biggest mistake of her life.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N and general disclaimer** **: I do not own anything related to Twilight, be it characters, setting, stories, etc. No profit is being made from this fanfic and no copyright infringement is intended. If you feel like I am stealing something from you, please notify me immediately. That being said, I thought it would be fun to take SMeyer's vampire anatomy to its logical extreme and write it not only so that it makes sense, but also protraying actual consequences (and therefore ruining the obvious Mary Sue fantasy that was Breaking Dawn). Vampirism was supposed to be a sacrifice for Bella; let's make it that. Here's my take on her transformation and all that pertains to it: consequences both in- and external. Also, other than was the case with BD, this fic has a) character development, and b) a plot. I am being very generous with the characters and trying to portray them the way SMeyer intended, not the way they actually are. Please tell me what needs to be improved, if you can. I hope it's enjoyable.**

 **EDIT : I only now just got how you format documents to make reading easier on the eyes. Sorry about that.**

 **EDIT THE SECOND : Guys, I have to tell you right away that I couldn't keep the original promise. I wrote the characters as they are and not as SMeyer intended (sorry, Steph). The temptation was too great. The plot of this little story is completely different because I really think that BD doesn't have one. I want to take a book that is nearly universally mocked and try to write a coherent tale - a fun little excercise. That, in some circles, is called a spitefic. My story is, however, not a parody. It's meant to be an adventure / horror story that is entertaining to read. I don't mock people, but I do think it's fun to rethink stuff I didn't enjoy in a published work. This site isn't just reserved for heaping praise onto the original author. I am in no way attacking SMeyer, but I do feel entitled to an opinion about her books. She put them out there. I read them. I have an opinion. I think there's a lot wrong with these books and that that's worth exploring. It's a little bit hilarious to me that someone got all butt-hurt over the summary (whence I called BD a Mary Sue fantasy, which it is) and didn't even read my story, but thought it necessary to accuse me of plagiarism all the same. It's an original story and everything that does not belong to me is mentioned as such. I don't expect universal praise, but for crying out loud, accusing someone of a crime just because you got your knickers in a twist over a summary that criticises a book and insults no-one is not cool. What is it with people trying to silence dissenting voices? Crikey.  
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 **That being said, I hope you have fun with my take on** ** _Breaking Dawn_** **. Please share your opinions and air grievances if you have them. I am interested in everyone's thoughts. Thank you for your time. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Be Careful What You Wish For**

 **Chapter One**

 **1** **Isabella Marie Swan Cullen remembered little of the birthing process**. There were flashes of images: terrible, sickening, unnameable pain in her back, followed by a nasty, awful, wet cracking sound (her body! Oh God, oh God, her body was breaking in half, she was breaking, tearing up, dying, breaking, tearing ripping bleeding dead dead dead oh God oh God oh God what had she done to herself what had she done oh God) and then numbness; blood everywhere; the ground flying up to meet her, and Edward carrying her up into the mansion's second story; excited voices chattering, but no pain, no pain, no anything; blotches of blackness mixing with the glaring lights, as her consciousness slipped away; more voices; some pain on her chest – something biting her, ripping through skin and fat and muscles and tendons with razor-sharp teeth, chewing on her flesh, the stench of it unbelievable, the horror, the horror, oh God the horror. Then…

…then, there was blackness.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

Fire burned through her veins. Liquid acid, dissolving her tissues from within like necrotising fasciitis, eating the life out of her, scooping it away cell by cell, burning, ripping, shredding, killing. She could not move her legs; her spine had been broken. She could not open her eyes; her eyelids had melted onto the eyeballs, as if someone had pressed a red-hot iron against her face. Her arms shook uncontrollably, making it worse, making it all so worse, as her old skin stuck to the surface of the metal table she lay on, freezing and burning her at the same time, ripping off in strips, filling the air with the horrible stench of putrefaction.

Her lips were welded together as well, so she could not scream. In her mouth, her gums dissolved, her teeth tumbled backwards into her throat, making her vomit guts and acid into her mouth, her throat, her airwaves, her lungs. Her tongue swell and cracked open like a slug in a microwave. Hot, putrid blood and festered tissue trickled down her gullet. Every breath was ash and fire in her poor, mangled, pureed lungs. She writhed upon the table, twitching, whimpering, trying to breathe, trying not to throw up from the pain and the stink of her decay and her last incontinence ever, trying to endure, trying to pray for an end, just an end to all this, God, please, just one second of no pain, no suffering, no burning melting dissolving ripping rotting dying, just nothingness, oh God.

Amidst all this, there was one crystal-clear thought though in her fractured mind: part of her prayers were being answered, even if in the most cruel of ways. She was dying, after all. She'd gotten her wish, hadn't she? Edward, her husband, the love of her life, had bitten her, and it had not been too late; she was shedding all of her that was human. She was becoming a vampire.

* * *

 **2** **She had no idea how long it took, this awful process of…transformation?** How to call it? Why call it anything? Whatever it took to make the pain go away, she'd do it; whatever they told her to say or do or think or be, anything, _anything_ to just make it stop make it stop make it finally stop. She was liquefying inside her decomposing, sore-covered skin; her body had been broken and was now rearranging itself piece by piece, wrecking all that had been to make place for the new. What _was_ this new, anyway? What was this going to do to her? How was it going to end? Did it even matter? The beauty, the allure, the sparkling glory, everything was just a dim memory dissolving inside her rotting brain, the images fractured and distorted into nightmare fuel: the beauty was marred, the perfection decayed, the gods of her fantasies turned into gibbering monsters of black eyes and unhinged jaws, dripping poison.

No time for regrets. No time to ask herself what she'd done when she'd insisted on pursuing this. No time to be bitter about her insistence that it would be worth all the pain. It wasn't. Whatever else came, it wasn't. As the skin on her arms blistered, cracked, and started sloughing off her raw and putrid flesh strip by strip, she couldn't even scream. No, it wasn't worth it. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

Finally, though, the unspeakable, universal agony that had become everything forever, that had become the very core of her existence, started to fade. It happened as slowly as it had begun, but after an eternity and a half, she could feel it: numbness. The air and dust-motes settling on her reformed flesh didn't sear as badly, and eventually, they hurt not at all. Her heartbeat, which had been frantic and excruciating, slowed and slowed and slowed, and with every deceleration, the pain grew less. The decayed matter in her caved-in mouth was absorbed into her mucous membranes. Her teeth, tongue, palate reformed. Her mangled and broken body adjusted itself on the metal table without her doing anything of her own volition, and the surface felt warm and pleasant against her skin.

As the agony slowly made way for blessed numbness, and the stink of rotting flesh and excrements began to be replaced by something sweet and intense, like a scented candle to the face, Bella was vaguely aware of someone handling her body, removing the tattered and soiled clothing, moving her, washing her gently, dressing her. It still hurt and she was still sore, but it wasn't anything akin to melting alive in her wrecked shell of a decaying corpse. Pain went away, as did thoughts of God and regret and fear. Why be afraid? There was numbness to drown in, and that was good – it was better than anything she had ever felt in her entire life.

Another eternity later, the pain was gone completely. She wasn't breathing anymore, either, but listening to what she knew were the last of her heartbeats. Dun-dun. How odd to be looking forward to the ending of the last thing that still tethered her to humanity. Dun-dun. Was this what being damned to a soulless existence felt like? Did it even matter anymore? The pain was gone. Dun-dun. She tried to remember the last things she had thought, she had felt, before the pain had started. Her mind drew a blank. This was odd, too, and weirdly alarming.

Hadn't something been going on? What had triggered her death again? There had been something inside her – something. _Something_. The sound pulsed through her entire body, like a fever: dun-dun. Something had been there. It had _mattered_. Why couldn't she remember? Why was this all so blurry, when it had mattered so much before? She tried to think about it, to recall, but couldn't quite piece together the foggy fragments of lost memories. There were bits of images, but they were slipping away, as if they'd never been there in the first place. They didn't matter anymore. They were gone – gone forever.

Dun-dun.

Dun-dun.

Dun.

Bella Swan Cullen's heart beat its last. The transformation was complete. She opened her eyes to the world and saw it for the first time.

* * *

 **3** **She saw everything. She heard everything**. Her eyes were flooded with images her brain was unable to decipher: air, light, dust, wood, faces, sparkles, surfaces, edges, dimensions. Everything was everywhere, all at once. She couldn't focus on any one thing, but saw it all with the same clarity, zooming in on all and seeing nothing. The pain that shot through her skull was blinding. The moment she thought about doing it, she'd clapped her hands (were those her hands? What had happened to her hands, _these weren't her hands_ , oh God, oh God, oh God!) over her ears and screamed.

The sound reverberated through the air (and it was everywhere, everywhere, no escaping it, no running away, no seeing, no understanding, oh dear God), hit obstacles, ricocheted, hit her eardrums again. The sound of her weirdly textured skin (not her skin, not her hands, _not her_ ) being crushed against her ears, the scream echoing, voices, fabric whooshing against skin, cars driving by in the distance, wind howling against the edges of the house, crickets chirping, birds singing, mice skittering, leaves rustling, dear God, she could hear nothing, she was blind and deaf and deaf and blind and oh God, her mind, she was going insane, she-

"Bella! _Calm down!_ "

The voice pierced the cacophony of unintelligible, clashing sounds like knitting needles being stabbed straight through her ears and into her brain. Unable to help herself, she screamed again, blinked, tried to see, tried to hear, tried to understand something, _anything_. She wanted to get off that stupid goddamn metal table, and the moment she thought it, she was scrambling backwards, flying, crashing into a hard surface. Clawing at the air in front of her, she went down on her behind. She wanted to cry, to moisten her poor, tortured eyes, to give them a break, but all that she got was a burning, tingling sensation in her eyeballs. Good God, she couldn't even cry anymore. Hugging her knees closely to this weird, alien body she now inhabited, Bella shut her eyes as closely as they went and tried to stop screaming.

* * *

 **4** **She had no idea how long she sat there, cowering on the ground, curled up and trying desperately to make sense of something, anything – hours?** A day? A million years? Might as well have been. At some point, someone had told whoever was there to clear the room. A voice spoke harshly to her, the impatient (was it? She couldn't quite tell anymore) tone making her twitch violently and claw at her own ears in a blind, raw panic. Someone else yelled at them to shut the pie-hole. Then, someone (the same someone? She had no idea, nor did she care much) had carefully sat down next to her, put arms around her, rocked her.

"It's all right," the person had said lowly – he. It was a male voice that sounded vaguely familiar, even though she couldn't exactly remember how or why. "Calm down. I know it can be overwhelming, at first, but you'll learn to handle it. Focus on the sound of my voice, Bella. Try to tune everything else out."

She tried, but it was so much, too much going on around her, tearing at her eardrums and her sanity. Wailing and flinching at how the sound rebounded through this goddamn room, she pressed the heels of those clumsy, heavy, alien hands to the equally alien ears, but it didn't make it better in the slightest.

"Focus only on my voice," the man – boy? Whatever – said, his voice hardly above a whisper but still a painful addition to the universal cacophony. "You can do it. I know you can do it. You have to."

Yes, she had to, if she didn't want to go insane, but how to do it? It was all so much. It was all too much to bear. She wished she could cry. She wished that they had let her move on to whatever awaited humans after death.

* * *

 **5** **Time lost all meaning in a world that was constantly loud and bright, and in a body that did not allow its occupant to ever sleep.** No-one had told her what a burden that would be. No-one had told her about the blindness and deafness, either. No, she was stuck in this rock-hard, cold, heavy, unwieldy, clumsy, alien thing now, and had to teach herself the most basic things – things she had taken for granted for most of her life. She couldn't make sense of what she heard. She couldn't make sense of what she saw. She couldn't control the quickness, the readiness of her movements. It was as if she were caught in the worst acid-trip of all time. There was one thing to be grateful for, however: at least she didn't have a working digestive tract anymore, because if she did, she'd be forced to wear diapers.

Even worse than being a huge, helpless baby was the thirst. Oh God, the _thirst_. Her mouth was constantly parched, her throat dry and cracked and burning, the pain even worse than having to listen to everything going on at once at all times, every second of every damn day. From time to time, someone (the someone who'd been tutoring her, that much she could already tell) put a bag in her hands. It felt weird and squishy, but inside it, was much-craved relief: cool, salty-sweet, metallic liquid, which she sucked up greedily, yearning for it to finally kill the red-hot agony in her throat, the heaviness in her limbs. It was blood, of course, and it was glorious. There was nothing she could remember ever tasting as a human that had been this immensely satisfying, whose consumption had been this…well, sensual.

But then again, she couldn't remember what she'd used to eat as a human, so there was little basis for comparison.

At some point – weeks must have gone by – she managed to start singling out different noises. Like her tutor had said, she learned to focus on one noise at a time. It was a painful, laborious process, and even after all this frustrating time of sitting in a corner, blind and deaf, it was still difficult to tune out much of what was going on in the world around her. Piece by piece, though, she managed. Yes, this was a conscious process every single time, unlike it must have been when she'd been human (it must have, otherwise she'd gone mad at some point). Still, there was relief in experiencing success, and she clung to that, built on it.

Next up, she had to learn to see again.

* * *

 **6** **Seeing, making sense of all the information flooding her brain, that was even more difficult than learning to hear.** It took the Tutor a good long while to convince her to even open her eyes and try looking at anything that wasn't the reddish, pinkish, disgusting insides of her eyelids.

"You'll manage, I promise," he said for the millionth time, an arm around her, as she leaned her head against his shoulder. He was warm, and leaning against him felt pleasant. She decided that she liked him. This probably had something to do with the fact that his presence invoked a feeling of vague familiarity in her, but she decided not to dwell on that too much – one thing after the other and all that jazz. "It'll be okay, Bella. I'm here. I'll help you."

"I can't," she said, wincing at the tinny, unfamiliar sound of her new voice. If she could have, she would have shivered, but her skin was no longer able to form gooseflesh. "Please don't make me."

"I'm not gonna make you do anything," the Tutor said, "not ever again. But you need to see. Your eyes work perfectly well. All you need is to learn to understand the information they're sending your brain."

She knew that he was right. She wasn't blind, after all, and after all this frustrating time being stuck in a body she didn't know how to navigate, she finally sympathised with people who had a handicap. Hadn't she used to look down upon these so-called human imperfections? The thought rang a bell, but she couldn't quite recall. In any case, choosing to stay blind out of cowardice was insulting toward those who'd give anything to have the ability to see. Now she knew how awful the feeling of absolute helplessness was. She had no intention of being useless dead weight for all eternity.

"Okay," she whispered, nauseated by that awful voice that wasn't hers.

The worst thing was, she could hardly remember what her real voice sounded like anymore. It had melted like the rest of her human body. It had died and rotted and was now gone forever. But what use did it make to mourn for something that she could only vaguely recall? Probably none, but she couldn't help feeling weighed down by the thought of her loss – if her voice, her eyes, her ears were this strange to her, then what had happened to the rest of her body? She decided to tackle one issue at a time. Getting herself worked up and in a panic would do no-one any good at all, least of all her. She needed to get a grip on herself, and fast.

Cautiously, she commanded her eyes to blink and then open. The sight of everything at once assaulted her brain, and wincing, she shut her eyes again.

"It's just like you did when you trained your hearing," he said patiently. "Focus on one single thing. Here" – He gently took her hands and placed a relatively soft, cubic object in them – "look at this, and only its surface. Tune everything out. Zoom in on only one thing at a time. You can do it. I know you can."

It took her longer to force herself to re-open her eyes, but when the overwhelming visual stimuli drowned her in confusion and pain and fear, she managed to resist her instinct to protect herself and kept looking. There was something in her weird, pale, grainy hands, all right: a cube, made of different, moving layers, divided into smaller, differently coloured bricks, whose texture…

No. No, he told her to focus on the surface, to zoom in, to stop seeing everything at once with the same sharpness, to…

About five seconds later, she shut her eyes again, grimacing. Her head was aching dully, and she was trembling. Her throat felt parched again, too. What a failure. This was hopeless.

"Excellent," The Tutor said cheerily, and to her, it sounded like he was being honest. Again, there was that feeling of familiarity, and again, she was unable to pinpoint it. "That went better than I expected. You're doing great, Bella. Another month or two, and you'll be able to leave the room. I'm very proud of you."

If she'd still been able to, she would have burst into tears, but that relief was now denied to her forever. She hadn't known what an awful compromise she'd made for the sake of eternal youth, and it felt as if this were only the tip of the biggest iceberg in the history of forever.

Forever, huh? What a joke. What a terrible, irreversible, cosmic joke – and it was all on her.

* * *

 **7** **Slowly, very slowly, and beaten back several times by failure, frustration, and fear, Bella taught herself to use her brand-new eyes**. It took her over a month to be able to identify the thing the Tutor had put in her hands: it was a Rubik's cube – she vaguely recalled those. Hadn't she had one as a child? Not that it mattered. Maybe it did. She couldn't remember that, either. Once she managed to zoom in on the cube and not on effing everything within her field of vision, she made huge progress very quickly: another two weeks, and she could look at only the cube's surface instead of every detail of its anatomy; another month, and she was able to lift her gaze and look ahead without wanting to claw her own eyes out and die. Two weeks after that, and she mustered all her courage to ask the Tutor a very important question:

"Do you think that I'm ready to look at you, now?" The sound of this tinny, high-pitched voice coming out of her new mouth (which she had some trouble operating if she didn't take care deliberating her actions, first) still made her cringe, even after several months of sitting in a corner getting used to it. It just wasn't her, she guessed. Fuzzy memories or no, nearly two decades of having one voice trumped less than half a year. In her mind, her voice still sounded like it had before her death.

The Tutor took his sweet time to answer. It probably wasn't more than a minute, but by God, did it seem like a flipping eternity! That was another weird side-effect of the transformation: time just didn't go by as quickly as it once had.

Finally, he said, "I think you're ready, sure. Give it a try, but don't be too hard on yourself if it doesn't work out."

"Okay, I won't," she heard herself saying (and the quicker reaction time made the once so well-honed brain-to-mouth filter she'd once had useless; the Tutor was able to attest to thousands of her failed attempts at keeping profanities to herself), and meant to turn her head to look at him.

As if anticipating this, though, he clapped one big, warm hand across her eyes, causing her to flinch heavily and ball her hands into fists. Her whole body jerked, and she hit the back of her head against the wall. There was a low thud. Plaster rained down on her hair. Dang it. Some acute vampire instincts, these were. They'd be impressive if she weren't so terribly useless.

"Keep 'em closed, Bella. I'll sit in front of you, at the other end of the room. Don't want you to be more overwhelmed than you need to be, okay?"

"Okay," she echoed thinly, feeling stupid and nervous and scared.

There was no more surge of adrenalin to signal danger or distress, but fear? That one was even harder to shake than frustration. She focussed on the loud and clear, sharp sound of him getting up to his feet, slowly stepping across the boarded floor, and sitting down again. The rustle of his clothes' fabric against his skin and then the wooden boards stung her ears, but she managed not to lose focus of her hearing. At least this, she was learning to master very well. It was about time, too. She was getting impatient with doing nothing but sitting around and trying to see and hear something all day long, for months on end.

"Okay," he said lowly, a slight tremble underlining his voice – anticipation? Nervousness? She couldn't tell. All her instincts were off, and everything was one big, complicated, three-dimensional puzzle. "Open your eyes."

After two seconds of listening to a heartbeat that was never going to come back (and how empty, hollow, and unreal this made her feel), she cautiously made herself open her eyes. Remembering her arduous training, she forced herself to blend out the overwhelming force of the high-definition everything her eyes were commanding her to see, and zoomed in on the large, hulking figure that was sitting about three metres away from her, cross-legged.

At first, it was too much. There was so much to absorb! Her stupid, useless vampire eyes wanted to see everything, focus on it all at once, flood her brain with all this superfluous information that it could not possibly hope to compute, not at this speed, but she ground her teeth and stood her ground. It took her about a minute – an agonising eternity, given the circumstances – until she managed to filter out what she did not need, and then…

…and then she _saw_ him, large as life and twice as beautiful. She could see everything about him, now: the pores of his skin, the texture of his hair, the subtle scheme of colour in his brown eyes. The feeling of familiarity flared up, and for a millisecond, Bella almost felt like herself again.

"Do you recognise me?" he said softly.

She nodded once – the brusque, curt movement of a bird tilting its head. "Yes," she said, clinging on to the sensation of being who she'd once was, in her own, human body. It was almost a shadow of happiness. "You are Jacob. You are my friend."

* * *

 **8** **Jacob's smile broadened considerably**. There was a twinkle in his – very much alive – dark eyes. "Very good, Bells. You're doing awesome."

Now that she could see him, now that she knew him, it was a marvel to her that she'd taken this long to recognise who he was. Was she so far removed from all that she'd been, that it took a visual cue for her to recognised someone….someone she'd once loved? As she focused on him, on his face, his smile, she managed to single out the scent of his skin, too: warm, earthy, clean, _alive_. He had a heartbeat; she could make it out amongst all the other sounds. She could actually zero in on it, now, after months and months of two steps forward, three steps back. There he was, Jacob, her friend, someone who had once made her life bearable again, someone who'd been there for her despite her awful treatment of him, someone who was still here.

He was still here.

She heard herself laughing, for the first time since she'd shed the last decayed remnants of her human physiology. The sound was hollow, chiming and metallic, but she hardly cringed; the relief, surprise, the sudden feeling of being light as a feather weighed heavier than the alienation. Was this happiness? It must be; she recognised it.

"I know you," she said, laughing. "I know you. I know you!"

Before she knew it, she'd jumped to her feet, because she felt like dancing. Her feet got tangled, somehow, though, due to the surprise of the sudden, unplanned movement, and she would have gone crashing down, eyes closed to escape the vertigo of changing perspectives, but someone caught her. It wasn't Jacob. No, someone had just now rushed into the room and caught her. She steadied herself in the person's arms and then pushed him or her away, tumbling backwards and hitting the wall with a bonk. Luckily, though, she managed to keep on her feet, this time.

"What did you do to her, mutt?" the newcomer's voice barked harshly, haughtily.

"More than you have, asshole." Jacob returned, not sounding very impressed.

Bella pushed aside the welling feeling of knowing that new voice, too, to make room for boiling-hot anger. "Don't you ever insult Jacob! He's my friend!" Her eyes flew open despite herself, and she focussed her vision on this unwelcome intruder. Only when she saw his face and recognised it, did she realise what she had done, and that she'd done it without deliberation. The joyed wonder of having been successful made way for puzzlement and shock. " _Edward_? I know you, too."

This couldn't be right. It…it just couldn't. From her memories surfaced the image of someone of godly beauty, with immaculate skin, perfect hair, and butterscotch eyes, sculpted features and a perfect, chiselled body. What she was seeing now was undoubtedly the same person, but…not, in a sense. The skin wasn't evenly white or smooth: it was granulated, somehow, textured, pockmarked like old granite. It was greyish, whitish, flecked.

There were cracks and veins on it that her old eyes had been unable to see. With a skin this uneven and crystalline, no wonder he reflected the sun in a million little sparkles. His eyes, surrounded by black spots akin to necrotising onions, were garishly yellow, and behind the iris, she could see a sickly-looking, pinkish fluid flowing through the tiny capillaries. The same was true of what she'd used to call his cupid's mouth: the surface of the lips was cracked and rubbery, but just below this unappealing surface were the capillaries, swimming in that weird, mucous liquid that looked like the most repulsive mix of pus and blood. Even his hair was granulated and spiky like an ant's legs under an electron microscope.

"This can't be right," she said tonelessly. Her mouth was parched and her throat burning. Her head hurt from the effort of focussing on one sight, one sound, one smell, one thought, one movement. This was too much. _This was too much_. "It can't be."

"Bella, it's okay," Jacob said. He took a step forward, but Edward – turned out her nightmarish visions hadn't been so off, after all – snarled and got in between them.

It was an ugly, penetrating, threatening sound that made her want to punch through the wall and run far, far away. Luckily, though, all she did was hit her fists against the wall once, caving the parts she collided with in and making it tremble slightly.

"Bella, stop panicking," Edward commanded, his voice weirdly strained. What was this, impatience? She couldn't tell anymore. She had forgotten how to identify this kind of thing. "It's all right. You're still seeing too much. You'll get used to it, and at some point, I'll look to you the way I always have."

"You're _lying!_ " It was out before she could even try to stop herself. "It's not true. This can't be real. It can't be." The thought alone made her feel like screaming again, but before she knew it, she'd raised her own hands in front of her eyes and focussed on them. "Oh, God. Oh, my God. This can't be real. _This can't be real!_ "

These weren't her hands. This wasn't her skin. This didn't even look like skin, it looked like floured, pebbly granite, all surfaces and shadows and weird shades of grey and white and beige and pervaded with ugly, pinkish veins. Her fingernails were a nightmare, too, whitish and sickly. Visible, underneath their surface, was that disgusting pus stuff swimming in her dead capillaries. What the hell was this? This wasn't her. This wasn't a living being's hands. This was a corpse's body. She was a walking, talking cadaver, a carcass.

Panicky, she pushed Edward aside – and how effortless she managed to do so! Incredible – and placed herself in front of a huge and tacky mirror someone had strategically positioned at the far end of the room. In the mirror, she saw something she could not take her eyes off. Unmitigated dread spread through her as she desperately wished for the ability to cry, or even to throw up. Her face was a nightmare. After looking at Edward and seeing her own, mangled hands, she'd expected something awful, but this? Nothing like this. The…the thing that stared back at her wasn't _her_. It had flawlessly symmetrical features that went beyond uncanny valley. It didn't look human in the slightest.

The thing's eyes were rounder and much larger than they'd once been; the distance between them was perfect, now, if one could call it that. They were doll's eyes, at least in shape and position. They had the same blackish, dead-onion-peel look around them, but the irises weren't yellow, they were bright red. The thing's nose was smaller, straighter, but the nostrils were covered in little pinkish veins in which that awful liquid swam. The mouth, that mouth she'd always squinted at with a mix of pride and annoyance, had lost all individuality: it was perfectly formed, the lower lip plumper than the upper lip, and it was red and rubbery like a prop. Just as was the case with Edward, she could see the tiny capillaries running through the lips, pink and sickly and disgusting.

The thing's body wasn't hers, either. Bella had always been thin and narrow, but now, her waist looked almost anatomically impossible; her hips were slightly rounder, her legs longer, her breasts evenly sized. For a brief moment, she wondered whose bright idea it had been to clothe a transitioning human / fledgling vampire in a frilly blue cocktail dress, but the thought was drowned in abject horror. This weird, inhuman thing staring back at Bella was not Bella. She did not recognise herself in this undead being at all. Bella Swan had disappeared. Instead of being conserved and improved for all eternity, as she'd expected to be, Bella Swan had been killed. She had ceased to exist.

There was nothing she could do but stare back at this unholy monster and scream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **1** "Bella, please step away from the mirror, take a moment, and _calm down!_ " Edward's clanging, scraping voice – dear Lord, he sounded as if he were speaking into a tin funnel from a hundred miles away – was imperious. He clearly was willing her to do as she was told, there was no mistaking that tone. This rang a bell, somehow, and made her feel like punching someone out. "All is well. You just need to-"

" _No!_ " Her fist collided with the gilded monstrosity that was this goddamn mirror. What idiot had thought that she would want to see this hideous monster she'd become? That she would want to be like this? Never like this!

The glass shattered into a million pieces, raining down on her impervious, hard skin. It felt as if she were being pelted with foam plastic. From outside the room, this awful, damned, stifling dump of a fricking room, she heard voices shouting, and suddenly, it all crashed back down on her, all the noises, the chaos, the swirling maelstrom of everything pounding down on her senses at once. Edward yelled again, Jacob's voice was somewhere in there, too, but this was all too much. It was all too goddamn much; she couldn't take it anymore.

Desperate, Bella pressed the heels of her hands to her ears, spun around, ran, and jumped – straight through the closed window. Crashing through the thick glass didn't hurt; it was as painful as brushing twigs against her skin. The ground came flying up to meet her; she shielded her face and collided with the lawn with a big, dull thump. It took her only a second to shake off her confusion. She scrambled up, blinking, trying hard to focus, to make sense of the world around her. Quick as lightning, she climbed out of the hole her body had left in the soft earth, pressed her rubbery, alien lips together, and broke into a run, stumbling and veering left and right like a drunk as she did so. It didn't matter where she was running. She needed to get away from that room, from this house, from all these _people_. She needed to get away from that thing she'd seen in the mirror. She needed to run.

She crashed into trees, breaking off branches and ripping that ridiculously stupid dress to ribbons, stumbled, fell, and ran again. After a moment or two, she splashed into water – a river. This invoked familiarity in her; there'd been a river _before_ , and she remembered it. She remembered it. Everything that she remembered from before was a good thing. It made her recall somewhat what it felt like to be an actual, real person again, instead of a hollow, undead, revolting thing.

The water splashing her feet and calves made her stop. She breathed in deeply, even though her body did not need it and it brought no relief. A second later, she forced herself to relax her tensed-up muscles and opened her eyes. Immediately, she was pummelled by a thousand different images trying to be the focus of her attention. Groaning, she squinted, concentrated, and managed to zoom in on the water flowing over her naked, disgusting and stony feet. It felt warm and soft, almost silky to the touch. A little smile curved up the corners of her lips. It vanished a split second later, though, when she made out the sound of pursuing feet.

No. Oh, no, she was _not_ going to go back, look at their weird, monstrous faces, let it all overwhelm her, drive her insane – not yet. She needed to be alone, at least for a while. With no hesitation, she stepped out of the river, walked backwards, ran, and launched herself across, firmly believing that she'd land face-first in the middle of the stream. Surprisingly, she flew wide, far across the water, and crashed noisily into a huge cedar tree. The tree groaned and swayed, but didn't fall. Bella clung to it with arms and legs, eyes shut. When she didn't fall off, she ventured to look again. The sight of it all gave her vertigo: she was at least five metres above the ground. The running steps behind her came closer. Trying not to think too much, she placed her naked feet on a thick branch below her, crouched, steadied herself, and jumped again.

This time, she was better prepared and didn't crash into the earth quite as clumsily as before. She gnashed her teeth together, pushed herself to her feet, and dashed off into the woods. If there was one thing that she remembered from before, from when she'd still been alive, it was that new-born vampires where both stronger and faster than their older counterparts. She may be a clumsy, useless wreck, but if she had an advantage, she was certainly going to press it.

As she moved through the forest, weaving between the trees, jumping over roots that jotted out of the ground, evading and flying and leaping, she felt as good as she ever could remember feeling. Her vision was focussed, her hearing was filtering out individual noises and not trying to make sense of everything at once. She was starting to get a feel for this weird, stony thing she was now trapped in. Two or three times, she tripped over her feet and crashed into the ground, or bounced off a tree, but nothing tragic. None of these things could hurt her anymore, at least not if she simply ran into them like a right moron.

Running and zooming, listening and filtering, she pushed on; it was taxing, but rewarding. The forest was teeming with life, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen: leaves glistening with moisture, finely-textured tree-barks that displayed the most complex mosaic patterns, insects buzzing through the air, squirrels scurrying away, hiding from the approaching predator, sunbeams filtered through the foliage. Could this be a good thing? Could there actually be something good about being this thing she had let them turn her into? Was there some degree of peace to be found? Maybe. It was enough to spark the smallest flame of hope inside of her.

As she was working hard to not lose focus, she didn't keep track of the minutes she was on the run, but from moment to moment, she grew more comfortable at it, better, more skilled, more-

She collided with a huge tree she had no name for, face-first. With a loud bonk, she hit it, bounced back, landed heavily on her butt. The world spun, and for a few seconds, everything threatened to become too much again, but luckily, she managed to get her senses under control once more. When she put her mind to it, she heard that her pursuers were relatively far off, that she had gained nicely on them despite crashing through the forest like a doped triceratops. Gingerly, she rose to her feet, not daring to look down at herself. She could feel the air touching her alien skin, and she didn't want to look and down and see…

…and see…

Dear _God_ , what was that heavenly scent? It was…faint in the air, mingling with all the other smells of the forest, the earthy, green, musky, leafy ones. No, this one was different. Bella closed her eyes and focussed, forced herself to concentrate on her senses, to zero in on that weak, beautiful smell that stood out amongst all others like the finest aroma imaginable. Ah, there it was, suddenly so strong, so pervasive, she wondered how she hadn't noticed it sooner. This was the best, most appetising thing she had ever breathed in. It was rich, strong, metallic, sweet and salty at the same time. It was…there was no describing its unique, tantalising richness, its inherent perfection, the life it carried, the relief it promised.

It was blood, being pumped through human veins by human hearts.

Thirst flared in her throat, sudden and burning and scorching, tearing and clawing at her throat, her mouth, her entire body. The forest became irrelevant. All that was left was that smell, that otherworldly, wonderful, perfect scent – and her thirst. She licked her rubber lips with her rubber tongue, clenched her fists, and broke into a run, not even thinking about it. There was fresh blood in the vicinity, and she was thirsty. Oh God, was she thirsty.

* * *

 **2** It was all she could hear: dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun. Hearts beating, pumping blood, the sound of it wet and rich and so _alive_. Every second Bella stayed away from the source of that sound, of that scent, the red-hot agony in her throat got worse, until it felt as if her insides were blistering and cracking and boiling. Her tongue lay heavy in her parched mouth. All of her body was in pain, and it was only getting worse. Memories of her transformation surfaced, plaguing her with how fresh, how crystal-clear they were: her body decomposing, burning, splitting, breaking, dying. A shadow of that pain flooded her head, her limbs, her mind. She was dehydrated, starved, needing wanting craving dear Lord needed to have to get to drink to soothe alleviate quench break kill.

She found them in a small clearing by a bubbling creek: four beating hearts in four bodies pervaded by veins, running with warm, flowing, living blood. The scent was strong now, so unbelievably strong, she couldn't satiate the fire in her throat soon enough. It all happened very quickly: one of the bodies made a noise. Speech? Didn't matter. They stared at her out of huge eyes. Didn't matter, either. Nothing mattered except the thirst and the pain and the blood calling out to her, screaming her name, waiting to be taken, consumed, eradicated.

Bella curled her upper lip back, and her fangs protruded from her gums, above her teeth, big and crooked and yellow and gleaming with whitish-pink venom, reeking of sweet decay. There was screaming. She grabbed one of the bodies – the biggest, meatiest one – sank her fangs into its soft flesh, and drank greedily. It was like heaven. Warm blood gushed into her mouth, down her gullet, seemingly filling up every crevice of her leached and drained self. The living body struggled, but it might as well have been trying to wrestle a rock. It was empty soon enough. She dropped it, sought out the others.

One of the bodies pointed something metallic at her – a gun, it was a gun – and fired. The bullet pelted her abdomen, but did no damage. She heard herself snarl. She leapt, landed on top of the shooter, drank it – drank it dry, tore at it, revelled in the power she had, in how easy it was to break destroy end eat drink kill. Still, her thirst was not quenched. Licking her teeth and the protruding fangs with her rubber tongue, she felt light, high, thrilled, exhilarated. Not ever had she experienced something this exciting, this riveting, this _satisfying_. The two other bodies tried to run, screaming, but they were no match for her. She caught them both, feeling so fast and strong and powerful and eternal, so above all and everything. She ripped their skins open, clamped her mouth over their pulsating jugulars, buried her fingernails in their limbs, clawed at them, let their screams fade off into the forest.

Finally, all the bodies were drained, dumped lifelessly onto the rich, dark earth, contorted, expressions of horror now forever stamped onto their dead faces. Bella stood in the middle of their camp, dishevelled and bloody and feral, her head spinning and her body filled with glorious life. The thirst was quenched, the burning was gone. She was full, sated, satisfied. For the first time since she could remember, she felt complete, she felt good, she felt like she owned this body she now occupied…she felt _alive_. Raising her face to the sky, she breathed in the smell of the forest, felt the breeze cooling her warmed skin, felt the soft ground below her naked feet. She raised her arms, closed her eyes, and laughed like she hadn't thought she would ever able to laugh again.

This distracted, she didn't even hear the steps approaching her, as her pursuers finally caught up.

"Too late," a voice said, cool and nonchalant.

Bella was dragged out of her frenzy. She spun around to the source of the voice, blinked, focussed, saw the thing that was Edward watching her with an impassive expression she didn't know how to interpret. With him were others, but it was so hard to look at them and see them without allowing it all to crash down upon her brain again. The dizzying feeling of elation puffed out of her, like air out of a punctured balloon. She let her arms hang by her side, slumped her shoulders, blinked again.

"Oh, God, Bella, _what have you done?_ "

The sound of Jacob's voice, the unmistakeable horror in his tremulous voice, the… the disgust, if that's what it was, it made her snap out of it completely. Feeling as if she were waking up from the deepest sleep, she slowly looked down at herself. The moronic dress someone had dolled her up with was in tatters, barely covering anything, and it was stained with earth and drenched in…

…drenched in blood. All of her was, in fact. She could feel sticky moisture on her face. Carefully, gingerly, she raised one stony hand and wiped her weird rubber lips. When she raised her hand to her eyes, it was smeared with glistening red. The stuff was inside her mouth, too, tasting metallic and wonderful, still.

She couldn't panic. How could she call what was going on with her panic, if there was no elevated heartbeat, no adrenaline surge, no cotton mouth, no nausea, no hyperventilation, no… _anything_? She was a walking corpse, an undead thing, an unholy, disgusting, hideous abomination that had shed all that had once made her unique, that had once made her human. Up until now, she had not grasped what that really meant. The agony building up inside her, the mounting terror of her conscious, rational mind catching up with reality, it all slowed her down, froze her in place, stopped time. Edward, Jacob, and two others she dared not try to zoom in on were standing there in absolute silence, watching her, waiting for…she had no clue. She had no clue about anything anymore.

Finally, she made herself shake off her lethargy and very slowly, very carefully looked around to inspect her surroundings. What she saw made her want to be able to feel sick, made her want to be able to flip out in hysterics and pass out, made her want to be able to weep. All around her were the bodies of the four people she had killed. No, she hadn't just killed them. She hadn't just sucked them dry. She had ripped them apart. All around her were body parts, torn off and strewn about carelessly: an arm here, a leg, a torso, a…a head. There was the ripped-off head of a woman, her eyes glazed over and wide in obvious horror, her mouth perpetually open in a soundless scream. The skin at her throat was ragged, hanging off in shreds.

Dear God, she had chewed a woman's head off. She hadn't just killed them. She hadn't just eaten them. She had torn them to pieces. People. Living, breathing people. Dead now. In shreds, thrown on the ground like garbage. Gone, as if they'd never existed.

"Stay calm, Bella," Edward said slowly, calmly. "It's all right. Everything is going to be fine."

"How can you say that?" she whispered, wanting, willing her voice to be shaky, to carry some of the dread that was spreading throughout her like poison.

Her body betrayed none of her terror, though. She could speak normally, move normally. Worst of all, she felt physically fine. Her thirst was sated. It was as if someone had charged her batteries; she was wired, vibrant, buzzing with energy. In fact, she hadn't felt this at ease in her new skin even once before now. How could this be? How could she be responsible for such destruction, for such pain, for ending four human lives, and feel good inside her body? Dear God, what had happened to her? She didn't just look like a monster: she was one.

"It won't be okay. It will never be okay again," she said slowly, tonelessly, and locked eyes with Jacob, wished she could make sense of the expression on his face, wished she could cry. "I killed them. I'm a murderer. I'm a monster."

"No, Bella," Edward said, taking a step forward.

Her head snapped to the side abruptly, and she focussed on him. It was still hard to get used to how strange and inhuman he looked, how repulsive, but frankly, right now, she couldn't care less. Fighting against the physical stupor that stood in stark contrast to what she knew she should be feeling was taxing enough.

" _Yes_ ," she countered sharply, flinching at the brassy quality of her hated voice – the thing's voice. But what was she now? Not Bella Swan trapped in the body of a monster. She was the monster, soulless and inhuman, a blight upon the earth, a mockery of creation. No wonder Edward thought that vampires had no soul. " _Look_ at this, goddamn you! Look at it and tell me that _it isn't monstrous!_ "

"Bella, you have to stay calm," a different voice said, equally tinny, equally not human. "It's very important that you not panic. Everything will be all right."

At once, something very odd happened: calm washed over her, warm and fuzzy and pleasant, taking the edge off the sharp anguish she wanted so desperately to be able to express. What was this? What was happening? She looked at the owner of the new voice, at his odd, scarred face, and was able to connect a name to it: Jasper. That rang a bell, too, didn't it? More warmth and cottony indifference spread throughout her body, and she remembered. Wanting to get mad made no never mind to her stupid brain, though, which simply refused to obey her commands.

"You're brainwashing me," she said, unable to take her eyes off his mangled face. It looked terrifying, taken apart and sown back together – a mesh of dozens of scars, big and small, criss-crossing every free inch of his skin. _Frankenstein's monster_ , her thoughts whispered. _Put back together from dead body parts, animated and cursed. Like me_. "Stop it."

"It's going to be okay, Bella," Jasper said, raising his hands, his palms outstretched.

Bella wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, what the hell he wanted her to respond, how she was meant to react to this gesture, and the irritation of her cluelessness pierced through the involuntary mellowness like a hot poker through infected flesh. "I don't want it to be okay," she said slowly and sluggishly. Dang it. This was ridiculous. "Stop doping me up. I don't want this. I don't want to feel okay about…about _this_." She pointed at the severed head. "I did this – me. I killed them." Another deep breath confirmed that this gesture, too, was hollow, that it brought no relief. "I _killed_ them."

"Everyone stop for a minute." The voice was warm, organic, alive – Jacob. She heard his steps approaching and stood still. When his big, warm hands took her by the shoulders and gently turned her around to face him, she did not resist. "Bella, please look at me." Hesitantly, she did. "You need to get away from here, from this, from anywhere you might run into people. You have to pull yourself together, come with us, and stay calm. Anything else would just make it all worse."

"Make it worse?" She stared at him in disbelief. "I killed four people! It doesn't get any-"

"Yes, it does. It can get a whole lot worse, maybe not for your guilt, but for all those people you could rip to pieces. This isn't about you; it's about them. I'm trying to minimise human loss, not cater to your ego." His voice was trembling, as were his hands. This was fury, wasn't it? It must be; she recognised it.

"I…" She trailed off, unsure of what to think, to say, to feel. "What happens here?"

"We'll take care of it," Edward said. The contrast between his strange, hollow voice and Jacob's warm and living one was egregious. "Don't worry about it."

Was that right? That couldn't be the right thing to do – it couldn't. "But," she started, fighting in vain against Jasper's unwanted manipulations, "their families, the police…" The police. That word, that concept, it triggered something in her, something stronger than a vampire's supernatural Valium. A memory surfaced, bright as day and sharp as a knife: a man with kind eyes, smiling, picking her up and planting a kiss on her cheek. His moustache had tickled her, and she'd giggled. It was a good memory. It reminded her of being able to love. "My dad. Oh, God, where's my dad? What happened to" – She hesitated, had to concentrate, to rip through the surface with metaphorical fingernails and dig the name out of the jumbled fragments of her human past – "to Charlie?"

"One thing after the other," Jacob said, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He took a couple of deep breaths. They seemed to soothe him. That was good – probably. "First things first, though: we need to take care of this mess. We need to get you-"

"You should kill me." She looked him straight in the eye, saw his pupils widening, didn't know what that meant. Holy crow, was that frustrating! "You…you're not human. You're one of those things that kill things like me. You're meant to kill me, Jacob. You _hate_ me."

Something happened to his expression: the frown disappeared, he closed his eyes for a second, pressed his lips together. Even his shoulders slumped a bit. "I wish I could," he said lowly, "but that ship has sailed. It doesn't matter anymore. I couldn't kill you, even if I wanted to. Please, Bells, come with me. I'll take you back to Castle New Money."

"Hey, watch it, Old Yeller!" a fourth voice said. This one was familiar, too, rough and deep and, it seemed, good-natured. Was that right? That couldn't be right. Who in the hell could be amused by all this ghastly horror? "That's my family's tasteful home you're bashing."

"Eat me, jockstrap," Jacob returned, not taking his eyes off Bella's. "Come on, let's go."

She shook her head curtly. "I am _not_ going back into that horrible room!"

"You don't have to," Jacob said, staring down at her intently, "but you need to come with me, now. We'll talk about this later."

"You and Jasper take her," Voice Number Four boomed. Thankfully, its owner was standing behind Bella, now; otherwise, she would not have been able to resist trying to focus her vision on him, Jacob, and Jasper, all at once. He just sounded so strangely light-hearted. "Wardo and I'll clean up the mess. We'll discuss the magnitude of our fuck-up later, and yes, this is on all of us. Not even you could contest that, eh, Wardo?"

"Don't call me that," Edward snapped.

"Whatever you say, bro. Dog-boy, you copacetic?"

"No, but screw it. Bella?"

She looked down at her feet, those ugly, repulsive, inhuman feet, and heaved an unnecessary sigh. "Okay."

More slowly than before, they made their way back to the Cullen residence. Judging by the position of the sun, it was still early in the morning, but it felt as if this day had already lasted a hundred years. Too much had happened; too much had been irreparably broken.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **Thank you everyone for reviewing. It is much appreciated and I hope you'll continue enjoying this fic. I decided to change one of the POV characters from Edward to Leah because I think that the story needs more female awesomeness. Besides, she offers a radically different perspective from both Bella and (soon to arrive) Irina, and I thought that would be interesting. The fate of the demon-spawn will soon be revealed; I ask you to graciously bear with me a little longer.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **1** **Bella allowed Jacob and Jasper to return her to the Cullen house**. She was just glad that everyone else – she knew that there were others; she'd heard them – had gone out of sight. By the time Jacob was leading her up the stairs to the second story, she was glad of Jasper's magical I-don't-give-a-damn mojo. Thoughts of what she'd done kept circling around in her head, over and over, as clear and sharp as if she were still there, still ripping those four innocent campers to pieces, over and over and over until forever. Was this a vampire thing? Non-fading memories? No dimming of once-suffered pain? Was she going to recall this awfulness, this horror, with perfect clarity until the day she ceased to exist?

Well, she did remember every single second of her transformation, so there was some merit to the theory.

Jacob led her upstairs gently, in silence. For a second, she feared she was going to end up in the little room of horrors again, with the metal table and the corner and the broken mirror, but he took her past it and into a big, luxurious bathroom. Looking at the white tiles, the gigantic bathtub, the marble sink, she realised that she'd been in here a number of times before, when…when…what was it again? Something to do with why she'd been dying, why Edward had been compelled to change her. She'd taken baths in here. Someone had helped her.

"Sit here," Jacob said, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her to the toilet.

Obediently, she sat down, wondering when the last time had been that she'd needed one of these contraptions. Odd, wasn't it? She couldn't quite recall. "What happens now?" Focussing solely on him, she was blissfully able to not look down at herself again. Concentrating on his familiar, pleasant, but not at all appetising heartbeat, she managed to tune out all other noises. Unfortunately, what she just couldn't stop perceiving was the stench of coagulated, dead, human blood – to a point, at least. She was still aware of it, as she was aware of all smells within the range of her nostrils.

"Someone's gonna come in here and run you a bath," he said, briefly motioning at the tub, not quite looking her in the eye. "A girl, so don't worry. Not planning to perv on you, or anything."

Briefly, a fragment of a memory flared up: hills, a snowstorm, cold, angry voices, warm hands, a kiss…anguish. As soon as it surfaced, however, it was gone again, and she didn't try to bring it back. Right now, she had bigger problems on her hands. "Girl? What girl?"

Strangely, the question made his entire back tense up. There was a hard line to his mouth, and his pupils narrowed. "Friend of yours," he said, using a snide tone that sounded slightly familiar, but that he hadn't yet used with her – not since she'd died, at least. Maybe never. Then, it looked as if he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Alice. You'll remember. Just try not to flip when she bounces in here, chirping, looking weird to you."

"Okay," Bella returned dully, at a loss. The name Alice was familiar to her, and it had positive connotations, just as she'd expect from a friend, but Jacob's demeanour? It was quite unintelligible.

"Okay," he echoed, scratching his neck. "Hey, Bells, can I ask you something…personal?"

She only nodded jerkily, blinking, willing herself to keep her eyes trained on his face and nothing else. Maybe, if she strained herself really hard, she'd be able to separate his scent from all the other smells assaulting her nostrils. It had worked really well with the human blood, after all, earlier.

He crossed his arms before his chest and looked at her squarely, a little frown creasing his forehead. "What do you see when you look at a vampire? Coz you freaked out pretty badly when you saw Wardo for the first time since your…your change."

Unable to help the images of that small disaster flashing in high definition before her strange mind's ever-watchful eye, she felt compelled to shut her eyes and stare at the inside of her eyelids instead of her friend. "I see something that isn't human," she said, her voice even and toneless and metallic. It was the same tone of voice she always spoke in, now, and it couldn't even start to convey her emotions, if that's what they could be called. It felt like being locked inside a fortress, somehow. "I see a monster."

"Huh," he said, and chuckled. "Fitting, somehow." That made her re-open her eyes and blink at him in obvious confusion, and he cleared his throat, pressing his knuckles to his lips. "Whatever. Listen, Bells, you stay put, now. I'm gonna go fetch Miss Twee."

"I thought her name was Alice."

His face got flushed. He pressed his lips together, raised his eyebrows, and uttered a strange little cough. "Yeah, it is. Just, uh…stay here. Won't take a minute – literally."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned around on his heels and stomped out of the room. She could trail the sound of his heavy steps up until the point where he got halfway down the stairs. Then, it got mixed up in the sea of background noise, and trying to single him out was too difficult, too painful. There was, by this point, after getting this far with her training, little doubt in her mind that she'd learn that skill in time – not now, though.

About ten seconds later, there was a light knock on the bathroom door. Bella's head jerked to the side, and she saw someone standing in the doorframe: a small, lithe, exceptionally skinny vampire female, whose dark, short, ant-leg hair looked artificially tousled. She wore a short and sleeveless green dress, exposing much of her repulsive, grainy, sickly skin. Bella flinched at the sight and closed her eyes. Apparently, she wasn't very skilled at controlling herself in any way. Dang it.

"Sorry," she said through clenched teeth, took a useless breath, and made herself look at the woman – Alice, apparently – again. "I don't mean to offend."

"It's all right, I know you can't help it," Alice said, smiling. Her voice was even hollower and more tinny than Bella's, and her smell was clearly discernible: very sweet, like huffing honey in high concentration. It was almost a little nauseating. "Yet. In time, you'll learn not to look at something and see everything. You'll look at the surfaces, see what matters."

Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? "Like the Rubik's cube," Bella said, trying to return Alice's smile. There was a sense of recognition in her when she looked at Alice: she knew this person. Judging by her emotional response, she supposed that Jacob had been right about her and Alice being friends. "Jacob taught me that."

"Did he?" Alice's voice got slightly more high-pitched. Clearly anticipating Bella's question – there was probably something on her face signalling confusion – she waved off. "Want I mean is this: you'll learn to filter out what you don't want to see, in time."

Bella studied her face, her greyish, pinkish, grainy face, looked into those yellow eyes, and frowned. "Did someone tell me that this would happen? You know, before. That it would all be so incredibly hard?"

For a few seconds, Alice just looked down at her with an unreadable expression on her face. Then, she smiled again. "You'll get used to it in time. Stop worrying about it. Now, let's get this show on the road. I'll even ignore what you did to the poor dress, even though it hurts to see such a crime against fashion. I mean, seriously, Bella, what were you thinking?" After theatrically planting her hands on her narrow hips and sighing loudly, she hopped to the huge bathtub and turned on the faucet. The sound of water splashing into the big, hollow, marble basin roared so loudly, Bella had to resist the urge to give in to focussing on all noises at once with all her mind, eyes shut firmly and hands clenched into fists. Alice said something, but it got drowned out in everything.

Bella willed herself to snap out of it; it took a while. When she finally managed to open her eyes again and see what she wanted, hear what she tried, the tub was half-full. "I'm sorry. You said something earlier?"

"Don't be frustrated if you relapse into sensory chaos, Bella; it takes a good long while until you can cope with it all," Alice said, scurried over on the tip of her toes to a cupboard, retrieved two bottles with pink and blue viscous fluids in them, respectively, poured healthy helpings out of each bottle into the steaming water, and put the bottles back again. When she reached into the water with both hands and mixed it up, this caused bubbles to rise; sweet, flowery fragrance pervaded the air. It was pretty pungent, but pleasant to Bella's nose. "All done," Alice said, motioning at the water. "Please, get out of these sad tatters and into the bath, because you are in sore need of it. You look terrible."

It wasn't easy, but Bella managed to not look down at herself as she rose to her feet in a slow, deliberate move, pulled the depressing remnants of her dress over her head, and dropped it on the tiles. Gingerly, she stepped into the steaming water. It was very hot, she knew that it must be, but it felt nice to the touch – silky, soothing. For a split second, she considered sighing to convey being pleased, but decided against it. It would be pointless, and Alice probably did not require this human kind of reassurance.

Bella submerged, relished the feeling of it, ran her fingers through her hair, stayed down for a while. Like this, under water, her body felt lighter and softer and warmer. No, it wasn't remotely human, but it helped, somehow. It took the edge off. When she re-emerged, she blinked all remaining droplets away and smiled at Alice, who was watching her intently, unmoving. "This is good."

"Isn't it? I've loved taking baths from the start, too…as far as I can recall, anyway. You probably don't remember me telling you this, but all my memories from before my change and right after it are gone, up until a point where I was actually quite in control of my vampire body."

"There's a lot from before that I don't remember, either," Bella said. Her worst memories flashed before her mind's eye again: the horror of the transformation, the frustration of being blind and deaf and useless…

…the campers, ripped apart and drained dry.

Bella wished she could shudder, that she could will her body into reflecting what was going on in her mind. Didn't she owe it to those poor people, those human beings who had died a truly awful death, to feel physically bad for them? Instead, here she was, relaxing in a bath. "I remembered my dad, though – earlier. When I was talking to Jacob. Charlie. That's his name. I asked Jacob about him, but Jacob wouldn't answer."

Alice sat down on the edge of the tub, all the while not taking her eyes off Bella's. "Charlie's fine. Don't worry about him. You should worry about yourself right now. Everything else will have to wait."

It was good to hear that her father was all right, even though she would have liked some details. Alice was right, though: at the moment, worrying about everything at once would only end in disaster.

Leaning her head back and looking up at the white ceiling, glad to not be forced to look at the yellow eyes of her fellow vampire (not to mention those disgusting capillaries) for a moment, she focussed on the scents rising out of the tub: water, perfumed oil, fragranced foam, the overpowering sweetness of her own body. Hadn't that been something she had liked, back when she'd still been alive? This smell? It wasn't terrible now, either, just…she didn't know how to put it. Strong? Concentrated? Something like that.

"When I killed those four people," Bella said, before she could think about whether sharing this was appropriate or not, "I felt so good. Tearing them up, drinking them, destroying them" – She nibbled her stupid lower lip that still felt utterly foreign – "it felt good, Alice. Ecstatic. _Orgasmic_. I loved it." She locked eyes with Alice again, trying and failing to gauge the latter's emotional state by scrutinising her expression. "I felt like God. That's how I know that I'm nothing more than a monster. Jacob should've killed me. Why didn't he kill me? I remember that he is something that hates things like me."

"A werewolf," Alice said, both her voice and expression terse. Then, she ran her skinny fingers through her spiky hair and shook her head. "He doesn't hate you, Bella, so please stop saying that he should kill you. No-one is going to kill you. You are not a monster. You made a mistake. It happens."

"A mistake," Bella echoed tonelessly. All the muscles in her face tightened as she struggled for a pained look. These facial expressions really weren't a picnic. "A mistake that ended four lives – horribly."

Alice rolled her eyes and waved off. "It's not as if you meant to do-"

"I did. I smelled the blood, concentrated on it, followed it with the intent to kill. I did mean to."

"Details. We won't let it happen again. You are not a monster and that's that, okay?"

"Okay," Bella said, sounding as unconvinced as she felt. If there was one thing she was not prepared to do, it was rationalising how barbaric her actions this morning had been. It was pretty obvious, however, that she was not going to get far with Alice on this topic right now. "Alice, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, sweetie. Fire away."

Again, Bella chewed on her lower lip. "Right before I was bitten, I…I remember that something was going on, that there was something that needed to be saved, that…" She shook her head, shrugged, rubbed at her eyes. "It's all so blurred. I can't remember."

For a while, it looked as if Alice wasn't going to answer at all, whilst she just stared down at Bella, unblinking and still as a statue. Finally, her expression softened, and she said, "Edward will be mad at me for telling you this, but he'll have to deal with it. You had a baby, Bella. You were pregnant. Giving birth is what killed you, what forced him to change you."

"But…" There were flashes of severely fragmented memories. She shut her eyes. There was…she was there, weak and in pain, carrying a heavy load. A blonde woman – Rose, her name had been Rose – had hovered over her, protecting her. Pain, weakness, helplessness, but also happiness, calm, serenity – _purpose_. There had been so much meaning attached to doing what she had been doing, carrying this load, muddling through, suffering for the sake of another, an innocent. "Wait. I remember. Nudger. I called it that." Her eyes flew open. The ensuing sensation of vertigo had her slip in the tub, go under, and bump the back of her head. Scrambling, she hoisted herself up, spluttered water, and stared at Alice, wide-eyed. "Renesmee. Her name is Renesmee."

Alice's alien face lit up in a cheery smile. "That's right, you remember! Well done!" She voiced a screechy little laugh.

Thinking and moving at nearly the same time, Bella got to her feet, fuelled by purpose. "My baby. My daughter. I want to see my daughter."

* * *

 **2** **"This is the last straw, Jacob! What the hell are you doing, mollycoddling this thing, this** _ **monster?**_ **"** Leah Clearwater yelled, not caring that the leeches could hear her, not caring that both Jacob and her lickspittle little brother were glaring at her as if willing her to burst into flames. Leah, however, didn't care right back at them. "Are you brain-damaged? _This is insane!_ "

They were standing outside, in the huge front yard of Castle New Money (at least Jacob agreed with her about the general tackiness of Chateau Cullen, even if Seth thought it was the bees' knees), right by the line of trees marking the edge of the lawn and the start of the forest. Heavy, grey clouds had started covering up the sky about an hour ago, and now, it was drizzling.

"Calm down, Leah, sheesh," Seth piped up, waving his hands at her as if he were trying to dazzle her into submission, or something equally doomed to failure. Seeing him sucking up to the vamps like this, their natural enemies, the reason the Quileute werewolves existed in the first place, was all kinds of heart-breaking. "You're making a spectacle of yourself."

"Oh, so the inconvenient little female is making a spectacle of herself? Well, we mustn't have that!" She brushed some of her chin-length, sleek dark hair behind her ears, tugged down on her short-sleeved, pretty beat-up cotton shirt, and crossed her arms, jutting out her chin. The air was chilly, but she didn't care. Not only was she always warm, anyway, but her temperature seemed to rise every time she had an argument with someone – which was all the time, these days.

"That's not what I-"

"She _knows_ ," Jacob cut in, all bossy like he effing owned the place, and glowered at Leah. It was probably meant to be menacing, the way he flexed his biceps and towered over her.

She, however, remained unimpressed. "Don't tell him what I know or don't know. The only thing I do know right now is that with your stupid, _stupid_ decisions, you have doomed us all to die."

"Leah…" Seth whined, scratching his neck, rolling his eyes.

God, was he due for a bitch-slap, or what? When had her beloved baby brother turned into this spineless whine-bag? Leah made a face. "Leah, _what_ , Seth? We might not be part of Sam's happy little band, anymore, but the treaty still stands. Turning Bella into a leech should have been enough to start a war." Again, she focussed on Jacob and his death-glare. "They gave you some leeway due to the demon-spawn situation-"

"Hey, watch your tongue!" Jacob took one step forward, but she did not budge.

"- but they will not forgive Bella's little spree-killing, I can guarantee you that." A bitter, humourless laugh escaped her lips. It wasn't half as snide as she'd intended it to come out, though. "They will descend on this place and smite our puny asses, and they'll be right to do it, too."

"Stop being such a drama-queen," Seth said, rolling his eyes again, since that was his go-to response to everything she did these days, it seemed. "It's embarrassing."

There were no words that would ever be able to properly express her annoyance – not anymore. This all was worse than mere exasperation, or than her feelings being hurt by her erstwhile friends and relatives (not to forget her ex-fiancé, of course) dumping on her all the time, mocking her and dismissing her. No, this right here was so much worse. She wasn't just the unwanted source of general reality-enemas anymore. It seemed to her that in all this madness, she was the only voice of reason left to knock some sense into everyone's mushy brains. If that wasn't a frightening notion, then she didn't know what else ever could be.

After she'd left her original pack, Sam Uley's pack, she'd been exhilarated, since she didn't share in the big pack's collective telepathy anymore. That meant that she was no longer forced to listen to Sam gushing over the girl he'd left her for from one day to the other, because he'd imprinted on said girl – Emily, Leah's cousin and best friend. Imprinting, that creepy, disturbing bullshit that basically erased a wolf's personality and turned him into a one-track-minded (often child-grooming) stalker. The imprintee? She'd either cave, eventually, or else. That was the way of their screwed-up genes, count your blessings, guys, at least you get to make perfect little wolf babies. Hurray! It would be funny if it weren't so goddamn scary.

When Leah had left Sam's pack to form a new one with Jacob and Seth, with Jacob as their glorious leader by divine right, she'd just been so _relieved_. No more sharing thoughts with Sam and everyone else – well, everyone except Seth and Jacob, that was. They were still forced to listen to each other when in wolf form, of course. Seth, however, was her baby brother, and Jacob…Jacob was hurt over being rejected by the girl he'd crushed on, so there was that to bond over. Being away from the larger pack, from Sam, was experiencing true freedom, William-Wallace-style without all that nasty belly-slicing. It meant no more having to listen to the others' opinion of her, no more being the designated killjoy, the only woman to have the gall to turn into a shape-shifting freak. Great, right? Yeah, not so much – not anymore.

Turned out that her intrepid pack-leader was, just like her brother, a little leech apologist. The fact that he wanted to ride off into the sunset with Bella cater-to-my-every-whim-damn-it Swan was well-known to everyone who'd ever met him and was in on the whole supernatural-shit-is-real deal. Yeah, Jake was hung-up on that tepid, shallow, sociopathic, self-entitled twit, but he'd still been relatively reasonable about it in the past – relatively. But since that hell-spawn had been birthed? Good gravy. There was no stopping him. He compensated for his guilt over all that nonsense by nursing Bella into being able to move her useless butt from A to B, as if the stupid bint deserved that after throwing her life away like it was worth nothing.

Now, changing packs didn't seem like such a brilliant idea anymore, what with the threat of imminent death-by-wolf and all that. Still, it was the choice between a rock and a hard place, and Leah knew this. Quileute lycanthropy wasn't fair or democratic: genetics and tribe traditions determined who got to be the Alpha, and everyone else had to fall in line, or else. Or else.

She took a deep breath to soothe her frayed nerves, but almost punched the big red cedar to her left when she smelled the sickly-sweet stench of vampires mixed in with the fresh, green, deep, lovely scents of the forest. Damn it, she was never going to be able to clear her nostrils of that stuff ever again! "Seth," she said, as calmly as she was able to, "I am not being a drama queen. Why don't you get your head out of Edward Cullen's rectum and think for once, okay?"

"Don't be so vulgar," Jacob said, still glowering, still carrying himself as if he meant to physically intimidate her. Maybe he didn't even consciously realise that he was doing this; who knew.

"Only if you stop getting hung up on pointless bullshit and listen to me," she returned coolly. "We are in deep trouble, boys, and you are refusing to face it. Now, Sam's been tolerating all of this" – she briefly motioned at the tacky white monstrosity the leeches lovingly called a home with a curt jerk of her chin – "because of your unfortunate circumstances, because of our previous positive experiences with these vamps, and because for all his posturing, he's not a warmonger." Talking about Sam like this, she felt reminded of how he used to look when he smiled at her, how it used to feel when he'd hold her, how happy she'd…damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, this was so flipping _stupid_. "But you promised him that we had Bella under control. Sweet Jesus, were you wrong."

Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes for a few seconds, and sighed heavily. He then shrugged and locked eyes with her again. "What do you want me to do, Leah? Huh? You expect me to help kill her? Kill any of them? You know I can't do that. You know that I _can't_."

"I expect you to do your damn job and protect humans from these undead cannibals, yeah," she said, anticipating protest from Seth and briefly glaring at him. All he did was roll his eyes. She wished he weren't this young and green and blinded by the glitz, but if wishes were horses and all that jazz. "Four people died because we were dumbasses, and yeah, this one's on me, too. If Seth and I hadn't taken off to see our mom, we would've been watching the perimeter. We would have-"

"Been no match for a frightened and thirsty new-born," Jacob cut in, and shrugged again when she shot him a poisonous look. "What? It's the truth, and you know it. Two wolves can't defeat one of them when they're like this. I'm glad you weren't here. I don't want your blood on my hands."

The drizzle turned into bona-fide rain, and she raised her face to the sky. The droplets of cold water felt like heaven on her hot skin. At length, she looked at her Alpha again, hands on her hips. "So what do you plan to do, oh wise and sage leader?"

"Talk to Sam," Jacob said dully, as if it sounded as stupid to him as it did to her. "We're meeting up with the Cullens as soon as Bella's out of the bath, talk strategy. Then, I'm calling Sam. I'll ask him to meet me halfway between here and the Reservation. We'll talk it out. Stop panicking."

"Yeah, Leah, relax," Seth said, reached out, and patted her shoulder once. Leah allowed this stoically. "It'll be fine."

"I wish I had your confidence in the possibility of fairy-tale endings," she said, shaking her head, looking down at her sneakers-clad feet. They'd seen better days, sure, but they were the most comfortable shoes she'd ever owned, and she'd wear them until the day they fell apart. "But I don't. I have a horrible feeling about this. My guess is, there will be war."

"Well," Jacob said, turned around, and started heading back to the house, "that's the reason I'm the Alpha and you're not. I won't let it come to that."

"And I wish it were up to you," she called after him, unimpressed by his theatrics, and faced her brother again. "It's not, Seth. I know you don't want to hear this, but we need to prepare for the worst. If things keep going the way they're going, our Alpha's gonna make us fight our own people to defend our natural enemies."

"Nothing's gonna happen, so stop being such a girl about it," Seth said, and jogged off to catch up to Jacob.

Leah watched them leave in silence, her lips pressed tightly together, her fingernails biting into the palms of her hands. The thing was, she could kind of see where Jacob was coming from, what with all the personal stakes he had invested in these…these people, and Seth? Seth was just a naïve little kid, a boy who believed that the entire world was his playground, that life was just a huge, exciting adventure. The boys didn't understand that she did sympathise, telepathy or no. They heard her angry surface thoughts, listened to her angry words, and couldn't read between the lines. That was her fault, in part, and she knew that.

The thing was, it didn't even matter if they knew that she sympathised, or even the fact that she did feel a little sorry for Jacob, that she did so not want to be in his shoes. None of that mattered, because her sympathy and Jacob's predicament and Seth's naiveté, they changed nothing about the fact that a centuries-old treaty had been violated and four human beings had paid the price with their lives. Sam was not going to stand for it – none of the other wolves would. The Cullens and Jacob's little pack were living in a dream-world, in a rose-coloured bubble where everything turned out fine if they all just wished upon the same star hard enough. The problem was, this kind of calm before the storm never lasted. She was pretty sure that reality was bound to catch up with the lot of them very soon, and when it did, it would end in bloodshed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** **As usual, thank you guys for reviewing. It means a lot to me. One of you remarked that I used a "Growing Up Cullen" reference; I did, indeed. If you people don't know that one, Google it, it's hilarious. My point is, I do not and will not take credit for something I did not come up with myself. Any and all other references, should I make them, will be listed at the end of the fic. Not only do I intend no copyright infringement, but I don't intend to commit plagiarism, either.**

 **In this chapter, a different player is introduced. Of course, this'll complicate things and make for even more inevitable disaster, but we wouldn't have it any other way, would we? No, we wouldn't. Oh, and soon to come: the epic introduction of the demon spawn. Be very afraid and stay tuned!  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **1** **Truth be told, Irina Horváthová had never pegged herself as a nature person.** She'd been fond of her hometown, Kremnica, back in the old Slavic territories, centuries before the founding of the state of Slovakia. It was beautiful, modern, and always teeming with life. Due to the mining operation, there were always people from foreign lands arriving, bringing news from abroad, teaching her snippets of unknown languages. She'd loved learning new things, meeting new people, gathering knowledge. All her life, her human life, she had dreamed of meeting a rich merchant or someone of similar means, and leave her home, travel, see the world as it was known back then. What she wanted was to see cities: Rome, Constantinople, any place with many people in it, tall stone buildings, dozens of different languages being spoken, culture, novelty. No, simple, quiet nature was all around her as she grew up, and it held little interest to her. Irina was going to find a foreign husband, she was going to leave Kremnica, and she was going to live a long, exciting life travelling the world.

It was almost funny how prophetic these wishes had turned out to be, even if not quite the way she had imagined.

"The first man I loved was called Lyubomir," she told the youthful-looking man sitting to her left on the park bench overlooking Elliott Bay Beach. The sky was overcast with heavy, dark-grey clouds and the air was chilly; still, there were plenty of humans around, walking, running, cycling, enjoying the lovely view. Irina herself had only learned to appreciate the quiet majesty of nature after her death – after her rebirth. There was a certain irony to this, wasn't there? Alive, she had not valued creation as much as she had started doing after losing everything that had made her human. "He was Russian."

"Human?" the man said. He was a baritone, which was surprising if one took into account his slender frame and almost boyish features. There was a trace of an accent there, too; he wasn't accustomed to speaking much Slovakian.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was watching her. "Yes," she said, idly brushing a wayward strand of her long, blonde curls behind her ear. "Loves the world, the name means. It was very fitting." A small, wistful smile played with her lips. "He must've been the kindest person I ever met. He told me that where he came from, my name was pronounces Arina, and so, he called me Arisha. I thought it was lovely. I thought everything he did was: the way he treated me, the way he treated everyone around him. I think that it's become a commodity, you know? Kindness – among us, among the humans."

"It has; I happen to agree," he said. There was a softness to his tone that she'd never heard before. Well, it wasn't as if they knew each other very well, but they had interacted in the past, when…when the unspeakable had happened. Back then, in Kremnica, right before she and her sisters had decided to leave. "You remember him well, then? This human?"

She nodded briefly. Two young women walked by, arm and arm, smiling – downright glowing, actually – and obviously very close to each other. Just looking at this obvious display of happiness, of friendship, of _love_ , was enough to make Irina feel heavy and hollow and old. By God, sometimes, she just felt so _old_. "Yes. I didn't, at first. You know, after I was turned. It took me years, in fact. Eventually, though, I succeeded, and now, the memories are with me forever."

"I know how that feels," he said, sounding the tiniest bit melancholy, "although the only thing from my human life I found worth remembering in greater detail was my mother. Everything else has all but faded away, now. It's…blurred. Dream-like."

Irina closed her eyes for a moment. She breathed in deeply the scent of the water, the trees, the air, the people. The back of her throat hurt, but she had fed before coming down here, and so, the thirst was manageable. "What was she like?"

It took him a few moments to reply. Finally, though, he said, "She was wonderful. She loved me, and I loved her. We were all we had. There was no-one else. When I was changed, I lost her forever. I thought that" – He ran his pale fingers through his short, dark-brown hair – "I owed it to her to remember that without her, I would not exist."

She decided to drink this information in, let it bounce around in her head, try not to just absorb the factual information she'd received, but picture it, _feel_ it. A minute or so passed. She half-turned to the left to look at his sharp, distinctive profile, at the slightly olive-tinged tone of his skin, white-washed as all vampires were white-washed. How terrifying that must have been for him: to see in a reflective surface not only his changed face and body, but a different skin-colour, too.

"That's a beautiful thing to remember," she said, feeling herself smile again. That was something they all had to teach themselves, and it was always a difficult and arduous process: conveying emotions via facial expressions and body language. A thousand years at it, and it had long become almost automatic to her. "I hardly recall my parents."

"But this man you loved," he said, still looking ahead at the water, even though she was pretty sure that he was still watching her from the corner of his eye, "you remember him."

"Yes," she said, took a strand of her hair between her fingers, and twirled it. "I suppose it's not just because I was very young and infatuations are overpowering when you are young, but also because he was the last human I was with before Aleksandra turned me. She killed him while I was changing. When I woke up, he was gone. I couldn't save him." The weight of the world crushed down on her dead heart, and she held perfectly still for a few seconds, riding through the pain of the memory. It wasn't as cathartic as crying, but it was all she had in ways of coping.

"I've noticed you don't call her Sasha."

The wind picked up a little. There was moisture in the air. It would rain soon. She hoped it would. "It's a nickname that signals endearment. I have no tender feelings toward that woman – not since I had time to think about what she did, about all the ways that she betrayed us. She destroyed my life in more ways than one."

"I know this is selfish," he said, after deliberating what had been said for a few seconds, "but I'm glad that you don't blame us for punishing her for her crimes-"

"Demetri-"

"- that you don't blame me personally, despite my direct involvement in this sordid affair." Finally, he looked at her. "I never wanted to be right about this – none of us did. It gives us no joy to enforce this kind of law."

Since they were in public, he wore dark-brown contacts, but through those, Irina could see the true, dark-red colour of his irises. Being so close to him, memories of those awful days resurfaced with perfect clarity: the at first unexplained random deaths in the villages around Kremnica; then Irina, Tanya and Katica's horrified realisation that it must be an immortal child; the pain of the betrayal suffered at the hands of their 'mother'; the Volterrani arriving in Kremnica; the investigation the child the verdict the execution the end.

Back then, it had felt like the end of everything.

She looked at him calmly, even though inside her, her memories were running rampant. "It wasn't your fault. Please don't apologise. You were only doing your duty."

The shadow of a smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "From what I've learned, your extended family, the Cullens-"

"They are _not_ my family!" She forced herself to relax and shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right," he said, unfazed, his subtle little smile growing a little broader. "It was my mistake. I was under the impression that your coven and theirs were very friendly with each other, and from what I've learned, they very much resent being inconvenienced by the law – the law that you and your sisters gracefully endured despite grave personal loss, I might add."

"Inconvenienced," she echoed, leaned back against the bench again, and looked at the silvery surface of the water. It was cold and still and beautiful. "They think they can get away with anything, you know? They prance about, believing themselves above and better, lording over all of us with their moral superiority. They're responsible for my…my friend's death. They don't care. They dare to sit back and do nothing but cater to their own egos, rationalising their own shortcomings, pointing fingers at everyone else."

The little smile made way for seriousness - for a frown of concern. "Tell me more about this friend of yours, Irina."

"Laurent. That was his name." She looked down on her white hands resting on her dark-jeans-clad thighs. "I cared about him, and he cared about me. He had to die because the Cullens are self-absorbed hypocrites." When he said nothing in reply, she raised her head to face him again. "Werewolves killed him while the Cullens were God knows where. They said that the wolves did it in defence of that girl, _Bella_ " – She poured all the disgust she felt into those two little syllables – "who he was apparently trying to kill, but that's a lie. He would never do that."

Demetri gave her an unreadable, impassive look. "He had adapted to your, uh…diet?"

She nodded. "He wasn't as arrogant about the difficulties of the change as the Cullens, though. They think they're so superior, don't they? They ally themselves with werewolves. They tell mortals about our existence. They live in the most conspicuous way possible. They _sat by_ and did _nothing_ while a new-born army was being amassed here, in Seattle. Then they have the nerve to-" Interrupting herself as she noticed the rage in her voice getting slightly out of control, she pressed her lips together and shook her head again.

"So…the alliance of the Cullens with those wolves was not temporary?"

At that, she laughed bitterly. "If only. They're friends, don't you know it. One of them is in love with that brat Edward married last week. They're all but inseparable now, Carlisle told Tanya. I believe he even mentioned a new balance of power that might keep your coven's tyranny in check."

He raised his thin eyebrows at her. "And the girl? Has she been turned, as was promised?"

She shook her head. "Unless it's happened by accident, no. Tanya says the happy couple took off for a holiday somewhere tropical, and that the plan was to let Bella be human a few years longer. You know: the human experience that matters more than a promise given."

"I understand your bitterness-"

"Do you?" Again, she had to take a moment to let the ire wash through her, before she was able to speak again without raging. "Forgive me. It's not you I'm angry with."

"I know, and there is nothing to forgive," he said, reached out with obviously deliberate slowness, and covered her hand with his own. His hands were beautiful, she noticed, slender and long-fingered.

Sometimes, when she was very upset, she was still overwhelmed by her senses and ended up being blinded by that dizzying mix of micro- and macro-vision all immortals were cursed with. Most of the time, however, due to very dogged persistence and centuries of training, she usually just saw what she wanted to see.

They just sat there in comradely silence for a moment or two, when she decided to voice the questions that had been on her mind ever since he had contacted her. She glanced at him and said, "Why did you call me? What do you want from me?"

He looked at her squarely, and the smile he wore on his almost perfectly symmetrical, youthful face betrayed something inhuman, something…feral. It was subtle, it was pretty well concealed, it was tamed, but it was definitely there. "Let me reply with a question of my own: what do you want the most, right now, at this moment in time?"

"Justice." The word was out as soon as the thought formed in her mind. "I want to see the Cullens on the same level as the rest of us – no more, no less."

"If they have betrayed my masters' goodwill and continued to break the law, then they will be dealt with accordingly," he said, still smiling, still looking at her unblinkingly, still perfectly unmoving. "This is why we need you – why I need you. Your coven and theirs are friendly with each other. They trust you. Around you, they will not pretend to be following the law; they will behave as they do on a daily basis."

"And if they mess up, you want me to report it back to you."

He briefly inclined his head in the hint of a nod. "It's a matter of self-preservation for all of us. This is the age of information, Irina. There are mobile phones, social networks, images and videos and articles flitting around the globe in seconds, leaving us no means of controlling the information flow unless we stay hidden. People such as the Cullens believe that we vampires are invincible, that humans are no match for us, but they are. Look at their growing numbers. Look at their evolving technology. If we are not careful, if we catch their unforgiving, psychopathic eye, then we might actually face extinction."

Listening to him making a speech as if trying to win an election, she had to snicker. She intertwined her fingers with his briefly, gave his hand a squeeze, and then pulled her hand back. "You're preaching to the choir, you know. You want me to spy for you? I'd be happy to. There's only one problem, though: they're protected."

"Oh, you mean the mind-reader and the one who can randomly see possible futures?"

"Edward and Alice. Yes. Precisely."

The smile turned into a verifiable smirk. "That shouldn't be a problem. I can teach you how to…how should I put this? Ah, yes: how to make use of both their powers' loopholes."

Her expressive eyebrows went almost up to her hairline. "How do you mean?"

He briefly raised both hands. "I'll explain everything to you in time. Just trust me when I tell you that we are privy to all information regarding all of their abilities, and that we have found ways to counter them." Again, he smiled, and it looked genuinely friendly. Maybe this was part of an act, but who cared? They both wanted the same thing, didn't they? They both wanted only what was best for their people. "So, will you help us? Help me?"

"Yes." There was no thinking it over, no doubt, just eagerness. Justice would be served, and she would be an integral part of that. All her life, she had looked for purpose. This was it. Finally, she had found it, and it felt _so_ good. She didn't care that he had an agenda. They both wanted the same thing, he took her concerns more than seriously, and she decided that she liked him. "Of course. I am an advocate of the law, after all."

"Needless to say. Good. It is settled, then. You will visit your… _friends_ , you will watch them, assess them, and decide if there are any transgressions taking place. Should that be the case, you will report them back to me. I don't want you to worry about anything else."

"I won't," she said, returning his expression, feeling light and warm and strong again for the first time in way, way too long. "You can count on me."

* * *

 **2** **For the next three months, the Cullens blocked Irina's attempts at visiting them in Forks, even when Tanya called Carlisle and told him that Irina wanted to make peace.** That was odd, wasn't it? Tanya told Irina that she needed to be patient and wait for them to be ready to rebuild that bridge, blah, blah, blah. As if Irina had ever done them any wrong, apart from refusing to go to that tacky wedding (she'd seen the photographs, and wow; how was their secret still a secret, again?). Still, she had nodded and meekly agreed to do what was needed.

It was odd, though, this insistence that the time for a visit was less than ideal, that Bella and Edward had to get used to their lives as newlyweds, and God, did Irina not believe a single word of that twaddle. The Cullens, giving up on an opportunity to get kowtowed to, to have their superiority acknowledged? That didn't sound the least bit plausible.

Yes, she had told Tanya and Kate (always Katica to Irina, no matter what, no matter how) that she'd wait for the mighty Cullens to magnanimously bestow the amazing grace of their attention on her (okay, she hadn't phrased it quite like that, but the sentiment still stood) but she just _knew_ that something fishy was going on. Something they did not want anyone to see – anyone who wasn't them. If anything else, this was highly suspicious. It might even be something worth reporting back to Demetri, her friend, the one person who not only had never lied to her, but who took her grief and bitterness completely seriously. She may have let down Laurent (and in the back of her mind, there was always Lyubomir), but she was never going to disappoint another friend – not if she could help it.

This was why she decided to disregard Tanya's advice, head on to begin the healing, and see for herself if the Cullen coven was up to anything…unlawful.

No, she wasn't out to 'get' them. She wasn't. Really. No. Of course not. What she wanted was justice, nothing but justice, and if they were stupid enough to provide her with ammunition, then it wasn't her fault. Really, she had no choice, if one thought about it for long enough. She had to go see what laws the Cullens were breaking. She had to go see if there was anything going on that would force her to interfere.

* * *

 **3** **The key to hiding from Edward's mind-reading and Alice's Sight was discipline.** Edward could only read surface thoughts, so that could be dealt with the way she'd always dealt with it, really: all she had to do was think in her native language, a dialect of Early Slovak spoken in the eleventh century. The only thoughts that he ever managed to understand were those she was thinking clearly in a language he spoke, directly when she thought them. Her feelings, her resentments, her agendas, all of that would remain private if her mind didn't put them into words he could interpret whilst he was in mind-reading range.

As for Alice? All she could See clearly were people who had made up their mind definitively about something that concerned her loved ones. Everything else remained in the dark for her. Irina's intentions? She wanted to see how the Cullens were doing, what they were doing, and with whom. What she'd do with that information was something she didn't even know, herself. Everything else she'd figure out when it was time – should there be something worth wanting to take action about, of course.

One day, when Tanya and Katica were out in the National Park to hunt, she packed a backpack, pinned her long hair up, and ran away from Denali, keeping away from her sisters' trails. It was time to patch up a strained relationship and make peace with her good friends, whom she loved as dearly as one would family. There was nothing suspicious about that, was there? Well, if she found them disrespecting the law, that wouldn't be her fault. All she wanted was to put her mind at ease, and that was it. That was it. It was. It truly was.

* * *

 **4** **When she reached the edge of the Cullen estate, she immediately could tell that something was off.** First of all, she could smell a vampire she didn't know – Bella? The Cullens wanting to be by themselves during such a time would make sense, but why the secrecy? After all, they'd made such a spectacle of themselves with the wedding, everyone who wasn't a human knew that Bella would eventually be turned – not to mention the fact that they had given their word to the Volterrani, or Volturi, as many called them these days. Changing her in secret had no advantages.

So there was a new-born vampire. That wasn't spectacular all by itself, although Irina had to wonder why they'd turn someone this closely to human civilisation. The stranger thing was that there were several heartbeats to be heard, all of them in the house. She breathed in, grimaced, made a face, stopped short halfway between the line of trees and the huge house's front porch.

Werewolves. Three of them. In the house. With the vampires.

There was something else, too: a heartbeat that did not belong to a werewolf, but it didn't sound quite human, either. She focussed, standing perfectly still, listening to that strange sound, breathing in that strange scent, completely at a loss. They were all inside, weren't they? Watching her standing there, waiting. Waiting for what? This behaviour made no sense. They were hiding something. They must be.

"I'm not here to fight you," she called out, thinking it, willing it, deciding to be peaceful. "I came to get all that unpleasantness out of the way." No reply came for at least half a minute, which was almost an eternity, given the circumstances. Feeling silly, she laughed. "Are you really gonna just let me stand out here in the front yard?"

It took another ten seconds or so until the front door was opened from the inside. Someone stepped into the doorframe. It was Carlisle. He had a strange, frowny expression on his face. Worry? Anxiety? Something like that. "Hello, Irina. I thought Tanya had told you that right now isn't a good time." Oh, he was hiding something. That much was obvious. It must be something big, too.

"I was in the neighbourhood," she said, making herself smile, making herself relax. "Are you really gonna send me away again? That would be more than rude."

His frown deepened, and he took a deep breath, even though there were no humans around and there was no need for the pretence. "Irina…"

Even though she opened her mouth to reply, Irina stayed silent when she heard steps approaching the door from within. She pressed her lips together and breathed in a warm, living scent that was so far removed from humanity, it made all the muscles in her body tense up.

"What's going on?" The voice that spoke up behind Carlisle was unknown to Irina – a child's voice, clear and determined and impatient.

Irina felt herself tensing again. "What…?"

She pushed herself past Carlisle, who protested feebly, and stepped into the light: a girl of maybe five, white as marble, brown-haired, big-eyed, red-lipped, and…

…and obviously immortal.

There was a heartbeat, yes, but what did it matter? This child was not a human child. This child was forbidden. It must not be. It _could_ not be.

What had they _done_?

Irina froze to the spot. She forgot to feign relaxation. She forgot to feign friendship. She even forgot to think. The only coherent thing that kept playing in her mind over and over, like a broken record, was one single word. A name.

Vasilii. Vasilii. Vasilii.

The memories crashed down on her like a tidal wave: her maker's secretiveness. The rising death-toll in and around Kremnica. Irina and her sisters' confusion. The fear. The horror. Being absolutely helpless. The Volterrani coven. The child, that beautiful, confused, innocent, monstrous child. Vasilii.

The executions.

Oh, God. Oh, no.

No. No, no, no, not ever again, not ever again, not ever, no this was not going to happen she wouldn't allow it no couldn't would not ever oh God the horror the terror the death. No. _No_!

Turning around on her heels, Irina ran.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **1 ****As if they didn't have enough problems, what with Bella still being pretty blind and sort of deaf**. No, now there was that nasty blonde vamp chick from Alaska or whatever sticking her stupid sparkly nose where it didn't belong. And Nessie? Jesus, she just did what she wanted and never listened. Jacob did his best to stay away from her, but when he couldn't, and she messed up, and he started getting angry…yeah. That always worked out _so_ well.

And now, this. Carlisle the Idiot asked everyone to stay inside, because he was gonna deal with the blonde leech. Great plan. Really. Jacob would clap sarcastically, but there was no time for such childish nonsense. The blonde wasn't fooled by Carlisle's why-can't-we-all-be-pals talk. Nessie got curious, wanted to see, and what Nessie wanted, Nessie got. The blonde panicked. She ran.

God _damn_.

"Leah! Seth! _Let's go!_ " Not waiting for a reply, not caring about the vamps' protests, he set into motion, dodged (precious, beautiful, perfect) Nessie, pushed Carlisle, jumped from the porch, phased, clothes ripping apart, and off he went. He'd worry about having nothing to wear later. His pack members were right on his heels.

" _Wait! Don't hurt her!_ " Carlisle yelled after them. " _Jasper! Emmett!_ _Go with them!_ "

Jacob didn't mind the jock so much, but Captain Brainwash was effing spine-chilling. Oh, well, no dodging that psychopathic asshole, since he was part of the clan, and the clan needed to keep together by decree of Nessie. She wanted him around, and she wanted Jacob. There was no escaping these people, was there? Ever? Damn it.

The blonde was fast, but Jacob was faster. He followed her into the forest, across the river. He weaved his way through the woods, dodging, jumping, tracking, running, running, running. It didn't take long, and he caught up with her, leapt, landed on top of her. She struggled, squirmed, managed to turn, grabbed one of his paws with both ice-cold hands in an iron grip, sank her fingernails into his skin, kicked up, hit him in the stomach with her rock-hard knee. He howled, jumped back, hit her in the face with his front paw. She flew wide, against a tree, bounced off, landed on all fours. In a split second, she was on her feet, her upper lip curled back, her fangs out. Jeez, these things were _icky_. She crouched, made to jump on him, but then Leah and Seth were there, flanking him, circling her, growling. Awesome! They could tear this thing apart, burn it, keep it forever away from his-

"Everyone is going to calm down _now!_ " Jasper's voice was loud and forceful. He'd just caught up with them, followed closely by Chucklehead. Much more calmly, sounding almost gleeful, he added, "Do it, or I'll do it for you."

Leah snarled. Her hackles stood on end. _I swear this asshole gets off on his power_.

 _Yeah, tell me something I don't know_ , Jacob snapped at her. It wasn't her fault, though, this cluster-fuck. He guessed he just wanted to tear these undead jerks a new one for ordering him and his people about like they were their pets.

 _Guys, don't be sore_ , Seth thought, placating as always. Seriously, what was up with that? _He's just trying to keep the peace_.

 _Shut up, Seth, God_!

This time, Jacob did not feel inclined to tell Leah to put a sock in it. _Okay, people, you heard Mister Creeptastic. Back off or get brainwashed_.

No, he didn't like having to listen to Jasper the Genocidal Maniac. The guy was fricking scary. The thing was, as much as Jacob despised him, he knew that he was never again going to lift another finger against any of the Cullens. Nessie wanted them all safe and sound, so that they could all protect her. She'd also made clear that she wanted them all united and happy in the same household, and what Nessie wanted, Nessie got.

 _This is getting ridiculous_ , Leah thought, and growled lowly. As the Beta, though, she had no choice but to obey her Alpha's command. There was always a positive side to every crappy situation. _I hate this. I hate_ him _. He's almost as bad as his goddamn girlfriend_.

 _All the same, stand down, Leah. I won't say it again_.

 _Fine. God_.

Of course, Jacob had no intention of phasing back into human form right now – just in case the blonde gave him an excuse to drop her. Also, he wasn't exactly keen on prancing around these people in nothing but his skin. How would that look? The haughty, white-washed plantation owners and the naked, brown natives? No way that kind of crap was ever going to happen. No way, no how. These assholes were racist enough already.

"Good," Jasper said evenly, clearly very pleased with himself. Yeah, it wasn't as if he enjoyed exerting power, or anything. Not. "Very good. Now, we can talk like civilised people."

When Jacob looked at his stupid vampire's face, he saw that the bastard was actually smirking. Oh, goodie. What a joy and a half.

" _You stay away from me, you freaks!_ " Irina screamed at them, her yellow eyes wide, her hands balled into fists.

"Honey, calm down, will ya? It ain't what you think." That was Chucklehead. Took a lot to get that one to panic. Even if he was an insufferable fratboy dudebro, the guy was at least marginally entertaining, even if that meant nothing more than the fact that he was the only one who of the leeches who tried to have a little fun with being undead. Still, even he had the blood of countless humans on his hands – 'accidents', the Cullens called that. 'Mishaps'. 'Unfortunate incidents'.

Jesus.

Blondie stared at Chucklehead as if he'd lost his mind. "It _ain't what I think?_ " she echoed, outraged. " _You made an immortal child!_ That is the most unspeakable, despicable crime that-"

"It's not like that," Jasper said, calm and cold and unsettling – to Jacob and his pack, at least. The vamps always seemed to respond well to his creepy mannerisms, but reading their expressions and interpreting them correctly? Well, that was anybody's guess.

"That child," Blondie snarled, "is a _monster!_ "

Okay, that was it. Jacob growled loudly, coiled his muscles, meant to jump. That goddamn undead thing, how _dare_ she insult-

"Jacob, this is your last warning." Creepula's voice was eerily calm; it was almost a singsong. Man, was he enjoying himself, or what? And did Jacob want to know anything, anything at all about a murderous psychopath's disturbing power kink? _Hell_ , no. "Don't force me to resort to more…drastic measures."

Leah growled loudly and started advancing on Captain Brainwash, who pulled up one corner of his mouth in the most off-putting smirk, like he was willing her to lose her temper. Judging by how close to exploding she was, maybe that was exactly what he was doing. _Christ_ , this guy was a sadistic little fucker. Seriously, what was wrong with him? Chucklehead rolled his eyes and flexed his biceps, like that was going to impress anyone. Jerk. Jacob was half-tempted to just let them duke it out, but he thought of Nessie (had to, couldn't control it, stop it, curb it, Jesus, this was so bad) and sighed inwardly.

 _Leah, don't. Listen to him_. Even though it pained him, Jacob added, _Do as he says_.

She howled. _Are you fucking kidding me? Good gravy, Jake, this is_ bullshit _, this_ -

"Hey, missy, stay right where you are," Chucklehead said, pointing at Blondie, who had started backing off slowly. "No absconding. We're under orders, which means we'll kick your ass if we have to. Jasper?"

Creepula's smirk turned into a broad grin. He nodded once, subtly. "I'm on it." Very slowly, he approached Blondie, who stared at him with wide eyes.

She was wired, tense, clearly ready to try to bolt at the first opportunity. Not that she'd get far, since the wolves were faster, but in all honesty? Jacob would do everything to avoid getting brainwashed by this sick psycho, too.

"Stay away from me," Blondie whispered, backing off against a tree.

"It's okay, Irina," Living Valium returned her look impassively. Yup, he was definitely having fun. Time of his life, probably. Nope, this wasn't uncomfortable at all to watch. Jeez. "Calm down. It's not what you think. Everything is just fine."

For a few seconds, she just stared back at him with what was clearly fear. Then, the psychopathic creep worked his magic, and not just on Blondie, but on everyone. Jacob could feel it: despite himself, he relaxed his posture, unclenched his jaw, felt serenity wash over him, caught himself agreeing with Jasper, who wasn't such a bad guy, after all, was he? No. He was right, too: there was no need for drama. All was well. They were all on the same side, weren't they? All was well. All was just fine.

Blondie blinked, frowned, shook her head. Her shoulders slumped, her arms hung loosely by her side. "No…no, stop it. _No_ ," she said, her voice slurring a little. She rubbed at her eyes, shook her head again. "No, you can't…"

"It's okay," Jasper said, his voice level and even and incredibly soothing. Sweet Jesus, it was impossible to believe that anything could ever go wrong again, if one listened to him talking like this. He closed in on Blondie, put his hands on her shoulders, and smiled at her. "I mean it. There is no reason to panic."

Again, she blinked at him, looking a little groggy. "Yes…no…I…are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Now, what do you say we all go back to the house, sit down, and talk this through calmly? You'll see that there is nothing sinister going on; I promise you that."

Through the pleasant torpor, Jacob couldn't help but suspect that there was probably nothing that good old Jasper would like more than to tear Blondie to pieces and set her on fire. He was just one of those people who were always looking for an excuse to kill folks.

Little later, the ragtag little group of unlikely (and involuntary) allies trudged on back to Castle New Money. The closer they got to the place, the more Jacob felt nervousness piercing the vampire-induced calmness. They were leading Blondie the Bitter Harpy right back to Nessie. What if Jasper's supernatural opiates weren't enough to keep the leech in check? What if she tried to hurt…no. Oh, that was so not going to happen. Should the vamp so much as look at Nessie the wrong way, Jacob would intervene. He may be fighting the imprint as hard as he could, but that was something he could not do: he could never, not ever, allow anyone to hurt the most precious thing in the entire universe.

* * *

 **2 ****When they reached the house, Chucklehead raced ahead to tell Carlisle that everything was A-Okay and that everyone was copacetic**. Yeah, not really, but what else were they going to do? They needed to sort this out. After casting one sideways glance at Jasper and Blondie (and planning to back the former, should he suggest they just get rid of the latter), he raced after Chuckles.

 _Stay here and watch them_ , he told his pack-members.

 _Gonna stay in wolf-form?_ Seth wondered.

 _Yeah, got Wardo to translate_. He lightly jumped up on the porch.

 _Maybe sweet little_ Renesmee _will make you phase_ , Leah thought, her tone as poisonous as it could be. _But don't worry about being embarrassed, Jake: good thing is, you won't mind_.

 _Shut up_. Jacob followed Chucklehead into the house, where they all (well, except for poor Bella, who was still huddled in her corner, upstairs) waited anxiously. Immediately, his eyes found Nessie. She was sitting between Rosalie and Esme on the big couch, while everyone else stood about, posing, immobile, looking like statues – and not of the living variety. Wardo was standing at the window, eyeing Blondie and Jasper, frowning. Sulking, too. That was all he did these days, it seemed, ever since he'd failed to get through to his confused, frightened, and suffering wife.

When Nessie saw Jacob, she cracked a broad, radiant smile, and Jacob? To him, it was as if the world faded away; nothing ridiculous like 'she's all I see', but somehow, everything and everyone else just didn't matter as much, anymore. She was an adorable-looking child, with her soft curls and big, brown eyes (Bella's eyes), and that heart-melting smile. How could he not do everything, anything to make her happy? Whatever she said, whatever she did, all that mattered was her happiness, her safety. All that mattered was her.

God, this was so, so fucked up.

It wasn't like he even thought about the day when she'd be old enough to…yeah. That. What Quil had said? About Baby Claire? That he didn't see other girls' faces, and that his libido had died down? That he was only going to want to touch a woman again when Claire was legal? Man, that shit was sick. The other wolves (well, except for Leah) didn't want to see it that way, but that? What Quil was doing? There was a name for it, and most people seemed to frown on child-grooming these days.

Jacob didn't want to be that guy. He didn't have any interest in Nessie that way (and yuck, she was a little girl, for Christ's sake), but he knew that that would change once her body had matured. The bigger problem was that she had an adult mind. She understood everything. She _knew_. She knew, and she…

…yeah.

She saw him, cracked a toothy smile, and the world fell away. God help him. "Jake! I missed you so much! Come here and lie down, I want to put my feet on your back!"

Of course. His heart clenched. Part of him wanted to protest, to tell her that he wasn't her pet, but as usual, that part was drowned out by an overwhelming tidal wave of love. She was the most precious child in the world. Who was he to say no to her? Sighing inwardly, he trotted to the couch, closed his eyes as she briefly ruffled his head, and plopped himself on the thick, fluffy carpet. When she dropped her feet on his back heavily, he tried not to wince.

"Can we get on with it, now?" Rosalie piped up, sounding piqued. She did that a lot. She had a lovely tendency to wrinkle her nose in disgust every time one of the wolves was around her, too. No, they were never going to be friends. What a notion. "What do we do about Irina?"

"We don't _do_ anything. We call her inside, explain to her what's going on," Carlisle said, all business. "She'll see that her conclusions were all wrong, and then there'll be no more trouble. Just be gentle: she has good reasons for being fearful."

 _Boo hoo. My heart goes out to her_. Jacob snorted. Nessie started kicking him, lightly at first, then harshly. He ground his teeth together and tried to ignore the discomfort. It was okay, though. He healed quickly, and if this made her happy…yeah. He'd do it. Of course he'd do it. Just like he'd let her bite him when she'd still been a baby. Just like everyone had indulged her teasing the hungry vampires (Jasper the most) with images and memories of human blood in a Styrofoam cup.

Thank God for the fact that she wanted him to help Bella. Those were the quietest, best hours of the day. During the time that it was just the two of them, Jacob and Bella, it was almost possible to remember how much he used to love her.

"We must be both gentle and tactful," Carlisle said, nodding to himself.

"Of course," Demure Wife of the Century replied meekly. Bleugh.

 _Sure_ , Jacob thought, _let's just take Blondie's hand and protect her precious little feels, coz that's what really matters_.

Wardo chuckled, but kept his eyes trained on both Blond and Blonde, through the window.

"Edward, Jacob, please be kind," Esme said softly, and seriously, that woman was annoying as all hell. She hadn't even heard him, but just knew by the sound of Wardo's chuckle that Jacob was being _such a meanie_! Yeuch. "We need to be tactful, now."

"No need," Chucklehead said, snickering. "Jasper's got her hooked on the good stuff. Like that, she'll say yes to anything."

"You know, Emmett, I am getting tired of your attitude," Wardo said, even prissier than usual, which was saying something. "Everything is not a big joke."

Chucklehead raised his eyebrows at Wardo and crossed his arms before his chest. "Yeah, man, no kidding. You think I don't know that? Huh? What else am I supposed to do? Stand around and mope? Coz that's helpful."

"Just get Irina and Jasper in here, so we can explain everything to her," Alice said, sort of twirling around as she looked at every single one of them, like she was trying to dance or something. It looked stupid. She clearly thought it was cute and graceful. It wasn't. It was dumb. "Everything will be fine, then."

"Yes, everything will be fine," Carlisle echoed, still frowning. He put his hands to his waist (with that stupid sweater and that Ken-doll hair, he looked like he'd jumped right out of a 1950s educational film about the perils of listening to Elvis) and nodded briefly. "All right, then. I'll tell them to come inside."

Jacob tensed up and snarled. Nessie kicked him again, and he flinched heavily. That was all right, though, of course. Of course. The poor thing must be nervous. That was it. She was wonderful, of course. Wonderful. Perfect. Just so, so perfect.

Man, was it hard to think like this, to use his brain, to be himself, to-

 _God damn it!_

He told himself to focus. If that blonde leech tried anything, anything at all that might end up in Nessie getting hurt, that vamp was history. No matter what happened, he would see to that; he would protect the most precious thing in the universe.

* * *

 **3 ****Irina stood outside with Jasper, the two wolves circling them.** She'd be worried about these creatures, but she couldn't. She'd be afraid, but _he_ wouldn't let her. It was impossible to fight against this numbness, this stupor, this both comforting and repulsive feeling of being sedated against her will. They were facing each other, she and Jasper, standing about two metres apart. He was watching her intently, unmoving, unblinking, the subtlest smile curving up the corners of his mouth. There was something ferocious about him, about that calm demeanour, that cryptic smile, that scarred but beautiful face. It was as if he wouldn't even try to mask himself as human, were this not required of him by the members of his coven – by his girlfriend, more specifically.

What was someone like that even doing with the Cullens, who revelled in their moral superiority, in their (unconvincing, but attempted) human façade? He was a vampire, through and through. He didn't believe in mingling with humans. He wanted to be a killer. He wanted _this_. It was as plain as the scars on his face.

"You can stop drugging me now," she said, hating that her voice sounded slurred and slow and stupid. "I know I can't outrun you and the werewolves. I'll behave. I promise."

"This must be making you angry," he said very lowly, low enough for her and the wolves to hear, not loud enough for those in the house. Edward would probably be eavesdropping, but if Irina could mask her thoughts from him, then so could Jasper. "Getting caught. Being powerless. I know I'd be angry."

There it was, too: a stab of white-hot fury poking through her brain, through her gut, piercing the numbing fog like lightning. At once, she balled her hands into fists. Her muscles coiled, her upper lip curled, and she-

 _Wait. No. No!_

Oh, God, he wanted her to attack him. He wanted her to give him an excuse to kill her.

With superhuman effort, she unclenched her fists and resisted the urge to jump the little bastard. "I won't fight you," she said through gritted teeth. "I won't. Don't make me."

The corners of his mouth twitched. He tilted his head slightly to the side. "I'm not making you do anything. You need to calm down. You're too wired. You don't want this to turn" – He briefly pressed his lips together – "ugly."

One of the wolves, the female, growled lowly, but Irina didn't dare look away. "I will not fight you."

For a few seconds, he just kept on looking at her in unsettling serenity and silence. Then, he opened his mouth to talk, and God, she could feel the mounting tension, the urge to _do_ something, to wipe that smirk off his goddamn-

"Irina? Jasper?" They both turned to look to the front door, where Carlisle stood, his expression serious as a heart-attack. "Would you please come in, now? We're ready to talk."

Relief washed through Irina as the rage subsided. Moving slowly and deliberately, she started walking toward the house. It was show-time. This was what she had come here for, wasn't it? No matter what they said, no matter how they explained this…this abomination to her, Irina knew what she had seen. The Cullens had broken the law, and she would see to it that they were punished.

* * *

 **4 ****Inside (with Jasper almost breathing down her neck), she found the Cullens standing in formation in front of the big sofa.** They were blocking the view, but through the gaps, Irina could see Jacob, still in wolf-form. Behind him, she couldn't see, but she knew that…that that was where the child would be – an immortal child with a heartbeat, protected by a werewolf.

What was going on here?

"Please," she said lowly, raising her hands in a defensive gesture, "I don't want any trouble. Just…explain to me what is happening here, because I" – She exhaled sharply, half laughing – "because I don't understand anything."

"If you don't want any trouble," Edward said, scowling, "then why are you thinking in Slovakian?"

Seeing him standing by the big panorama window like that, arms crossed, frowning at her like he was a stern but just teacher admonishing a wayward pupil, it was all she could do not to give him the finger. "Because what's in my head is not your business, and that includes my native language," she said, and turned to Carlisle. "I really don't want any trouble, I promise. I'm just scared."

"Of course," Carlisle said, solemn and serious, nodding. "Just…everyone stay calm, okay?" He looked around the room, got everyone to nod at him, and locked eyes with Irina again. "You see, we understand why you'd think what you thought, but" – He smiled – "no law has been broken here."

That was very much up for debate, but Irina wasn't exactly in a position to argue – not here, not like this. "All right."

"The child," Carlisle continued quickly, anticipating protest that wasn't going to come, "is not a vampire."

"She smells like one," Irina countered.

"That's because she _is_ half vampire," Rosalie said. She was standing half behind Carlisle, rolling her eyes. "Can we speed this along, please? I'm bored."

" _Rosalie!_ " Esme said in a half-baked scolding tone.

"What? I'm just being honest." Rosalie stepped forward, eyeing Irina with no sympathy on her face. "Listen: Edward here and the missus went on their honeymoon, she got pregnant, the pregnancy killed her, Edward turned her, and" – An honestly warm smile took hold of her features – "well, a miracle happened. A child was born – the most wonderful, unique child in the entire universe. She is not a little child turned vampire, but something new, something unheard of, something amazing and extraordinary. There is no risk to anyone."

"There is…" Irina trailed off. She looked at Rosalie – really _looked_ at her. She saw a woman transformed. The sarcastic, lofty ice queen had been replaced by a glowing, motherly creature that worshipped at a child's altar – a child that could not be more than a few months old, no matter how old she had seemed to Irina, earlier.

What was happening here? Irina looked from one to the other, and…oh God, it was on _all_ of their faces. As they listened to Rosalie ramping up the sales pitch, they all, without exception, started simpering. The expressions on their faces were transfixed, enchanted, hypnotised. It was as if someone had taken over and replaced the people Irina had known for decades with androids. What the _hell_ was going on?

"She is in complete control of her mind," Rosalie went on, her smile broad and radiant. If she had been able to, she'd most certainly blush. "We've never seen anything like it – like her."

"Because there is no-one like her," Carlisle said. He was smiling too, and it looked almost the same as Rosalie's. It looked like all of their faces. Even Emmett was doing it, and when had he ever cared about someone else's perfect little bundle of joy?

What was this child doing to them?

Irina kept her face level. Then, she made herself smile. "I…had no idea dhampirs were…real. That's…good?" It wasn't easy, but she managed to resist the urge to slap herself. A good improviser, she was not.

Everyone frowned a little. They almost did this in unison, too. It was spooky, to say the least. Irina almost started backing away, out of the room, out of this weird house, but then she remembered that Jasper was right behind her, just waiting for an excuse to rip her to pieces.

"Dhampir?" Alice chimed in. She was at the other side of the little group, flanking Esme.

"Yes," Irina said, pouring all her energy into keeping her cool. The sound of the…the child breathing behind Jacob, the smell of her, her heartbeat, it was all very distracting. Not to mention everything else, of course. "From legend? Half vampire, half human children?" The others' expressions remained blank and vaguely confused. Was this normal? Was it plausible that not even Carlisle would know about this? That…

She needed to focus. "It's…obscure. I read it in a book, at some point. Never mind. So…can I meet…uh…?"

"Renesmee," Rosalie said, veneration in her voice, still wearing that dead-eyed, toothy smile. Irina had never, ever seen her smile quite like this. It was almost weird enough to make her overhear that bizarre name. "We call her Nessie, though."

Irina raised her eyebrows. "Like…the German casting director Nessie Nesslauer?" Again, everyone just gave her confused looks, and she snickered. It sounded panicky. "Never mind. So…can I? Meet her?"

The Guardians of the Dhampir exchanged a few looks, and finally, Carlisle and Edward nodded at each other. "All right," the former said, extended his hand toward the sofa, but kept his eyes fixed on Irina. "Irina, I would like you to meet our darling, little, _perfect_ miracle…Renesmee Carlie Cullen."

As if on cue, everyone stepped aside, allowing for a great entrance of the main attraction, or maybe the monarch of a small but powerful nation.

And that was when Irina saw her in all her glory. If she could have, she would have turned and run.

"Hello, Aunt Irina," the child said, smiling the sweetest smile Irina had ever seen. "I've been waiting for you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 **1** **Bella jumped out of the bath in a flash.** Before she even knew it, she was at the bathroom door, ready to dash downstairs to see her daughter.

Alice, though, was quick on her feet and blocked Bella's way. " _Wait!_ " She held up her hands, reached out, stopped short of grabbing Bella's bare shoulders. "Just…wait. Calm down. Be reasonable."

"Be reasonable? I have a daughter! I want to see her! I-" She heard them before she saw them: from downstairs, two different sets of feet sped up. They planted themselves right behind Alice; it was Jacob and Jasper.

"I got this, boys!" Alice chimed cheerily, not taking her yellow, repulsive eyes off Bella's. A very mechanical-looking, mask-like smile contorted her china-doll features. "Bella, be reasonable. You just had a little, uh… _accident_ that left you rather unsettled. Self-control is not exactly your forte right now, wouldn't you agree?"

Bella blinked, focussed her sight, did all she could to see the surface of Alice's face rather than everything everywhere. "I…yes." She willed herself to stay where she was, to not think about pushing past Alice and the guys, to not think about just running downstairs and searching for her baby. It was so hard to think about doing something and not find herself engaged in that activity, already. Who had thought up the rules for vampire bodies? Her clumsiness was amped to the millionth degree, but at the same time, she was quicker than anything in nature was supposed to be.

Well, she wasn't a natural creature anymore, now, was she? She hadn't been one for over three months, now. It was time to come to terms with that simple, crushing reality.

"Besides, do you really want everyone to see you stark naked and dripping wet?" Alice put her tiny hands to her skinny waist and laughed that tinny, weird laugh of hers. It sounded affected as well as artificial. "Of course you don't. Now, why don't you march yourself back in there, dry off, get dressed, and then we can talk about Nes…I mean, Renesmee?"

That sounded reasonable. Bella's eyes flitted to where Jasper and Jacob were waiting in vigilant silence – the former smiling a little, the latter tense and glowering – and then she locked eyes with Alice again. Alice was her friend; Jacob had said so. She'd want what was best for Bella. She probably was a better judge of that than Bella could be, given the circumstances, too. It made sense to defer to her judgment. Besides, it wasn't as if Bella's decision-making hadn't landed her in a right bloody catastrophe earlier this day.

"All right," Bella said, and in a flash, she found herself standing by the bathtub again. She really needed to get a grip on her reactions. This could _not_ go on forever. "What do I wear?"

The smile on Alice's alien face got more genuine. "Well, let me worry about that, honey, okay?" She raised a finger, said, "I'll be right back. Don't move," and dashed outside. Jasper and Jacob stayed where they were, though.

If Bella had thought that it would make any difference, she would've sighed with exasperation now. As it was, however, she just picked up the towel Alice had left folded on the toilet lid and started drying herself off. Maybe this day was not going to be a total loss, after all; she did manage to not force the others to wrestle her down right now. That certainly counted as a success.

* * *

 **2** **Bella wasn't sure if wearing a beige cocktail-dress with a lop-sided skirt and uneven straps, as well as silvery stiletto shoes was appropriate for the context** , but she decided to just roll with it and not ask every question ever about all the little things. Her new existence was bewildering enough as it was. There was no need to make things even more confusing than they already were.

After she got dressed, Alice led her to something her mind identified as Edward's bedroom. She actually had no idea why she remembered this little factoid so clearly, but hardly anything else from her human years. Maybe her brain was getting used to being what it was. Maybe now all her old memories would come back. Images of her father flashed before her mind's eye. They were a little blurred, but they did something her new, crystal-clear and sharp memories did not do: they created tangible sensations of warmth and happiness and longing and melancholia at the same time. They resonated. They made her _feel_.

There were other old memories, too: images of a thin, athletic woman with a cheerful smile and sonorous (beloved) voice, who hugged and comforted Bella after Bella had hurt her knee. That was her mother – Renée. Her mother was named Renée. Where were her parents? Were they all right? What did they think had happened to their only child? Were they suffering? Was there anything she could to help them, or at least make sure that they were fine? The wish to see them, to hold them, to apologise to them for everything that she had put them through, to cry on their shoulders and hear them tell her that all was going to be okay…oh, God, it was nearly overwhelming. Whatever else it was, it was a very bitter pill to swallow.

There was no way she could see them, though – not ever again. She understood that now. Her parents were out of her life for good. The worst thing about this was that Bella couldn't even cry about it. She could be despondent, yes, but the relief unabashed bawling brought was denied to her. She figured that she would just have to learn to live with it. It was the only option, anyway.

There was no use thinking these gloomy thoughts, but it was hard to keep them at bay as they popped into her head. Why had she decided to become a vampire again? Everything was _terrible_. Trying hard to keep it together, because she could not afford another meltdown today, she meekly let Alice steer her into the bedroom, which was big and richly furnished: there was a huge bed in there, bookshelves, a wooden cabinet, a desk, chairs. One of the walls was made entirely of glass, and it showed a view of the backyard and the forest. That was beautiful.

"Sit here," Alice said, pointing at the bed. "I'll go chat with the others a bit. They'll probably want me to get you something to drink, first, just to be sure you're absolutely full. Then, I'll go convince Edward and the watchdog to let you see your own daughter. It won't be easy, but I'll manage; I always do. Just…be a little patient. That's the best thing you can do right now, okay?"

"Okay," Bella said, saw that outside, two big wolves were prowling on the lawn, no doubt ready to pounce should she lose control again. That was a somewhat comforting thought. She sat down at the edge of the bed and watched Alice prance away.

They didn't leave Bella completely alone in the room, though. Jasper stepped inside, leaned against the wall by the door, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. The way he kept staring at Bella, unflinching and unblinking, made her feel weirdly exposed. Where had Jacob gone, anyway? Downstairs? She had no clue.

"How do you feel?" Jasper said. There was no way to gauge his emotional state from his tone of voice, and he was talking so quietly, she could hardly make out his words.

"Better than I ever remember feeling." The words were out before she realised that she was thinking them. This was getting old.

"It's the blood, for the most part," he said flatly.

"What's the least part?"

The corners of his mouth twitched a little. "The kill. I know you don't want to hear it, and I know that the others would pitch a fit if they heard me telling you this, but it's true. It's who you are, now. You're not human. You're the thing that hunts humans. You're wired to want nothing more than to hunt them down and rip them to shreds and drink them up. That's what you did: follow your nature. It's why it felt like the most glorious thing ever. It's why you're so in control of your senses right now."

Bella stared at him, wide-eyed and stony-faced. She _was_ pretty much in control now, wasn't she? Considering what she'd been like this morning? She could look at him with no problem. She could sit here and not go crazy about all the noises and smells and sensations all around her. Yes, she still had to focus, but it wasn't as hard, not nearly as hard as it had been before she'd fed on those four campers. Even the stony, alien fortress she was trapped in didn't seem as foreign and cumbersome as it had only a few hours ago.

Could he be right? Well, the real question here was this: if he was right, and this was what and who she was now, did she want this existence? Even more important, was this an existence that should be allowed to continue?

One thing after the other. She told herself to focus, focus, focus.

"I'm _supposed_ to be a murderer?" she said, hating her flat and monotone voice like she never thought she could hate it. Truth be told, she never wasted one thought on how awful it would be to not be able to emote through speech – not before she was turned. Before, she thought that vampire voices were the most beautiful musical silver chimes in the history of forever. Now, she couldn't help but feel like a complete idiot for ever believing such shallow bullshit. It was too late for regrets, now, wasn't it? Far too late.

"It's not murder," he said, smiling a little. "They're cattle, Bella. We're apex predators. They're our prey. That's just how it works, and yes, it is that simple."

She remembered Edward telling her about his family's 'vegetarian' diet and how they were all devoted to protecting human life. Her parents came to mind again. They were human. They were _people_. The last thing she wanted was to see them suffer. The last thing she wanted was to imagine a vampire doing to them what she had done to those campers. "Why are you here if you think this way?"

He shrugged. "I have my reasons."

"But…why are you telling me all this? Aren't you worried that I might-"

"Tell on me?" He chuckled lowly. "No, Bella, I'm not worried you might tell on me – not after what you did today. Not now that you know what it's really _like_."

Well, she had to admit that he had a point right there. "I've been drinking from blood-bags all this time, but I never felt this…this…" What was the word again?

"Satisfied?" he offered, and she nodded curtly. "Yes, well, that's for two reasons: first, one or two blood-bags ain't gonna cut it, to put it casually; second, drinking from the living vein is how it's meant to be done. You're never gonna feel satisfied if you keep drinking human blood from a plastic bag. It's dead. You can taste that, and it doesn't do all it's supposed to do. It doesn't make you as strong and focussed as you're supposed to be. Drinking from a bag, you'll never be all you can be; you'll never live up to your full potential. Trust me; I know."

"What about animal blood?"

He grimaced. This wasn't hard to interpret, for once: that was an expression of pure and utter disgust if she'd ever seen one. "It's repulsive."

Before she could ask a follow-up question, she heard steps approaching.

It was Alice, carrying three blood-bags in her spindly arms. "Here you go, sweetie. Drink up. Just be careful not to spill anything on your new dress. I really want everyone to see you wearing it, after you trashed my hopes of presenting you in the blue one _the way I had foreseen it_. First public appearance indeed, but I'm nothing if not adaptable!" She tittered.

"Alice, she isn't a debutante; she's a new-born vampire, for crying out loud," Jasper said, sounding mildly exasperated. "I told you that playing dress-up with a corpse wasn't such a great idea, and now you're doing the exact same thing with a live and wild one."

Alice made a face. "Nonsense! Bella is a fashionable young woman who would always want to look her best, no matter the circumstances. Nothing has changed about that at all. It's a woman thing. You wouldn't understand, you big brute. Right, Bella?"

Bella followed the exchange blankly. "Uh…sure." She looked at the blood-bags, smelled them, and felt a faint burning pain in the back of her throat.

"Just give her the blood, already."

"You have no sense of decorum, mister," Alice chimed, sounding vaguely disapproving, dropped herself to Bella's right, and handed her one of the bags. "Here, honey: one after the other. Remember your manners, now. We're not animals."

Surprised at how controlled her motions were, Bella did as she was told and drained the blood-bags slowly and carefully, one by one. The blood tasted all right and it sated the mild thirst, but the sensation of drinking it was nowhere near as glorious as gulping down the blood flowing through the (dead oh God they were dead they were ripped to pieces she had murdered them killed them ended them) campers had been.

When she was ready, she licked her rubbery lips and looked from Jasper to Alice and back again. "Can I see my daughter, now?"

"What has the council of elders decreed in its infinite wisdom?" Jasper said, looking at Alice.

"Don't be mean," Alice scolded, and Bella had no clue what was going on. Had that been mean? How did everyone know how to tell? This was quite infuriating. "I'll go and talk to them again, tell them how calm and composed you are, Bella. You don't feel thirsty anymore?"

Bella shook her head. "I feel fine."

"I'll take care of the rest," Jasper said, a smile in his voice. That was what this was, right? "There's no need to worry. There won't be another slip-up – right, Bella?"

For some reason, she had to wonder if he could have prevented the first one, had he tried. But he wouldn't allow her to flip out like that if he had known how to prevent it, would he? No, of course not. None of these people were capable of something that awful and cold and sadistic.

"No," Bella said, instead. Hey, she was pretty sure that this was the first time she'd managed to keep her thoughts to herself ever since she'd been turned. Progress! "There won't."

"Wonderful!" Alice chirped, clapped her little hands together, grabbed the empty plastic bags, and hopped to her feet. "I'll go take care of the formalities. You two cuties just stay right where you are. I'll be right back with great news! Trust me, I know!" She dashed off.

"She doesn't, by the way," Jasper said, now positively smirking. "Her precognition? Doesn't work around your kid and the wolves. Just to give you a heads-up."

Bella scrutinised his face attentively, but remained clueless. Somehow, the feeling was more familiar than she would've thought. "Is there anything else I should know before I meet my own daughter?"

The smirk turned into something resembling a grin. "Plenty, but I think I've told you quite enough," he said. "Wouldn't want to spoiler you too much. Let's just say that you will be…enchanted."

"Enchanted," she echoed hollowly, and took a useless, no-relief-bringing breath. "Well, that's something I can work with."

For some reason, this remark made him laugh lowly. "Oh, you'll work with it," he said, "whether you want to or not."

* * *

 **3** **Telling time wasn't as easy as Bella had hoped during her long months of learning how to see and hear and move.** She'd imagined that since she was hyper-aware of everything, she'd be more precise than a Swiss watch at telling the passing of seconds, once she learned how to control her senses. Reality turned out to be quite different. How much time did she spend in that bedroom, waiting, under Jasper's watchful eyes? Minutes? An hour? It was hard enough getting a grip on all the thoughts swirling in her brain. Counting the seconds became secondary, not to mention impossible.

"I used to think it would all come to me naturally," she heard herself saying at some point.

"What would?"

She looked up into his scarred face. It wasn't awful to look at anymore at all. To be perfectly honest, his face was less of a shock than Edward's had been – probably because when she'd first seen Edward with her new eyes, she had not been prepared. "Everything," she said. "Moving. Thinking. Multi-tasking. Nothing is easy – _nothing_."

"Ask a human baby how it feels about not even being able to turn to the side by itself," he said, sounding…what was this? Kindness? Understanding? Something like that. "You'll learn. At some point, it'll all be automatic. You won't even think about it. You'll be fine."

"Thank you," she said, and looked down at her hands. They seemed less grainy and disgusting than they had before. Was that the human blood from the vein, too? If it was, the implications of this, of the price for a quick-fix to her problems, were not at all savoury.

This time, she could make out Alice's light steps the moment Alice started going up the stairs. Bella really was getting better at this, wasn't she?

"All right, guys, we're ready for you," Alice twittered, as she hopped into the doorframe. "Come on down; it's okay. Just…remember to take it easy, okay, Bella? Slow and steady does it."

"Isn't that ever so true?" Jasper said, earning himself a slap on his arm from Alice.

Bella had no idea what that was all about, but she had other priorities at the moment. As she very slowly got to her feet and started walking toward the door in what was an almost ceremonial stride, she wondered what she was feeling. It was so hard to tell without a heartbeat, without adrenaline, without anything physical to go by. Was she nervous? Was she excited? She was definitely curious, but whether the rest of it was anxiety or anticipation was very difficult to tell. All she could do right now was hope that Jasper was right: that at some point, all of this would become easy and automatic.

Alice took Bella's arm and started leading her outside, down the corridor and the big staircase, whilst Jasper followed.

In the living room, there was a little crowd. All except Jacob were vampires, and even though Bella ground her teeth together at the sight of their strange faces, she managed to keep her cool with surprising ease. It had to be the gallons of human blood she'd consumed – it just had to. Like this, she was even able to put names to the faces: Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, Edward…wait, who was the blonde woman standing in the background? What…had Bella ever seen her? She didn't think so.

Jacob was standing further away, close to the front door, and he looked just so, so tense. His shoulders were set, his hands were balled into fists. He looked at if he were ready to jump and run at the first sign of trouble. What the hell was…

…there was a second heartbeat she hadn't been able to hear before due to the deep thumping of Jacob's own pulse. This other heartbeat was quicker, lighter, less…wolfy, somehow. It wasn't human, either. This was _her_ , wasn't it? Her daughter. Her daughter had a heartbeat.

"Bella," Carlisle said, stepping forward, arms outstretched, smiling. "Welcome back. We're all so glad that you're feeling better."

The campers. Screams. Shots fired. Blood. Tearing. Fear. Satisfaction. Horror. Death.

Bella snapped out of it and tried to return his expression. It felt weird and artificial. At the same time, a wave of contentment washed over her, and she relaxed. That wasn't her. No, that wasn't her doing at all, but other than at the camp, she was now glad of the supernatural dope. "Thank you." Her eyes found Edward's. He was standing by the window, watching her with a slight frown. His face was less repulsive, now, less…detailed. It looked smoother. That was a huge relief. "I'm sorry about…this morning. I'm sorry." She didn't even know whether she was telling this to all of them or just to Edward.

"It's okay; it's over, now," Carlisle said, crossing the distance between them and slowly placing his hands on her bare shoulders. "You're all right; that's what matters."

Was it? She wondered what had happened to the campers' ripped-up corpses. "I'm…I feel in control, now."

"Yeah, because you're chock-full with human blood. Small wonder."

" _Rosalie!_ "

"What, _Esme_? It's the truth." Bella's eyes found Rosalie's. The latter didn't look very forgiving at all. "Look, Bella, you might be feeling grand right now, but it'll wear off. You should know that."

"How about we focus on positive things?" Carlisle said quickly, probably wanting to cut an arising argument short. He focussed his attention on Bella again. "Bella, listen to that little heartbeat. Take a deep breath. Tell me what you smell."

This was all a little confusing, wasn't it? Why couldn't they just _tell_ her what to expect, instead of making her guess? Still, Bella obligingly listened and breathed. "There's nothing human about any of it."

"Does it smell appetising to you?"

" _No!_ " She flinched at her own vehemence. Apparently, so did everyone else. "No, not at all."

"Good; that's good," Carlisle said, stepped to the side, and nodded gravely at Jacob. "It's okay. Bella can handle it."

"What if she can't? What if she flips out and-"

"She won't," Jasper cut in from behind Bella.

Jacob glared at him. "What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not."

He sounded so convinced, Bella couldn't help but agree with him. She felt good. She wasn't going to lose control. Everything was going to be just fine. "Please, Jacob, I want to see my child."

Jacob opened his mouth to reply (protest, more likely), but then a high-pitched, smooth, child-like girl's voice chimed up from behind him: "Let me see my momma, Jake. I want to see her _now!_ "

Something weird happened: all tension just drained out of Jacob's body. His shoulders slumped, his fists relaxed, his expression grew pained and resigned. "All right," he said, his voice soft and indulgent, as he moved out of the way. "Don't think I'll let her hurt you, though."

"She won't hurt me. She'll love me," the girl's voice said, and then the girl herself stepped forward from behind Jacob, past Rosalie and Emmett, stopping two steps away from Bella. "Hello, Momma. I was so eager to meet you."

Bella laid eyes on her and was…transfixed. That was the word. It came easily to her, like it wouldn't have only a few hours ago. The girl was at about 3'5'', petite, had lush brown curls and big brown eyes. She looked…well, she looked like a mix between Edward and what Bella remembered of her own human looks. The thing was, this girl…well, she was, uh…uh…

…flawless. Her skin wasn't grainy and pervaded with pinkish veins as a vampire's; her skin was smooth and white, the way Bella remembered seeing vampire skin before her transformation. The girl's eyes were big, her nose was small, her lips were full and deeply red, her cheeks were faintly flushed. Her features were completely symmetrical. Bella could not put her finger on it, but something about this perfect symmetry was disquieting, somehow – off. It was weird. It was unnatural. The girl was perfectly beautiful and perfectly inhuman.

That was when Bella saw how everyone else was looking at this child. Their faces were entranced, charmed, hypnotised. There was unmistakeable worship in their expressions, love beyond what seemed possible for a vampire. Lack of adrenaline or no, Bella could not help but feel the chill of dread creeping up her spine.

What was going on here?

"I…I…I'm…your mom," she heard herself mumble stupidly. It sounded incredulous and astounded. Wow. She really was getting the hang of sounding alive, wasn't she? Was this a consequence of the human blood from the vein, too? Would it go away if she stopped killing? Was there an upside to _any_ of this? What a nightmare.

"I know," the girl said, smiling as sweetly as sunshine after spring rain. She took the last two steps forward, ignoring everyone's horrified gasps, and reached out to Bella, who had to exert all her self-control not to recoil. "Let me touch your hand, Momma. You'll understand everything then."

Bella couldn't help but scan every other face in the room. Her eyes briefly settled on the blonde woman at the window. This woman...she wasn't mesmerised. She wasn't enchanted. She looked paralysed. When Bella was about to open her mouth and talk to this woman, the woman just very subtly shook her head. Bella pressed her lips together and looked down into the little girl's beautiful eyes. "Of course," she said feebly, "Renesmee."

Renesmee's smile broadened, and it was truly the most dazzling, unsettling thing Bella had ever laid her eyes on. "Good," the girl said, and touched Bella's cold fingers with her sizzling hot ones.

Bella waited and waited and wondered what exactly was supposed to be happening, here. She frowned a little. "I don't understand." Her eyes found Carlisle's.

He looked perturbed. "You don't see it?"

"See _what?_ " Bella returned irritably. Why couldn't any of them just come out and volunteer information, instead of playing this useless guessing game?

"She's a shield," Edward piped up. All turned to him. "I can't read her mind. It makes sense that Nessie's ability doesn't work on her, either."

"Nessie?" Bella cast an exasperated look over her shoulder at Jasper, who just shrugged. "Like Eliot Ness?"

"Why doesn't she _see_?" Renesmee sounded seriously angry. Bella flinched and took a step backwards without even noticing it. " _I want her to see!_ "

"Calm down, honey," Jacob hurried to say, falling all over himself to hurry to the girl's side and put his hands on her shoulders. "It's all right. It's all right. I'll do whatever I can to make it better."

What was _wrong_ with him? This wasn't the boy that Bella knew in her new life or remembered from her human one – and she remembered! Snippets, that was, but there were images and sensations, which was better than nothing.

"Can you please explain to me _what is going on_?" Bella cried out, cringing at how loud and metallic and toneless her voice sounded again. Her hands were balled into fists, and she felt like running. " _I don't understand anything!_ "

Several things happened at once: Jacob grabbed Renesmee and carried her outside the house in a flash; basically every vampire present jumped into formation, circling Bella; the unknown blonde stayed where she was; Jasper grabbed Bella and spun her around and crushed his hands to the side of her face, so that she looked right into his eyes.

"Calm down," he said very lowly, ignoring her harsh grip on his wrists. It must be painful, given her new-born strength, but apart from wincing slightly, he didn't seem to mind it at all. On the contrary: he looked like he was having a jolly good time. "Keep it together."

Bella wanted to shove him away and scream in frustration and ask them why no-one in this group thought it necessary to just _talk_ to her, but the moment she decided to do all this, she was drowned in a thick, syrupy, honeyed tidal-wave of complacency. It was warm and relaxing and all-encompassing, and when it hit her, all anger and tension and exasperation puffed out, and her whole body slackened. Her hands dropped from Jasper's wrists, and she just stood there, looking back at him vacantly.

After a while, he let go of her face. "Are you in control again?"

"Yes," she said, her voice slow and slurred. That was weird, but she didn't care. This feeling was great. Why couldn't she feel like this all the time? What had happened to that little girl, again?

"Jasper, that's _enough!_ " Edward snapped angrily, rushing to Bella's side, steadying her as her knees buckled. " _For God's sake!_ "

"Do you want her to tear your daughter's face off in unchecked, new-born anger? No? Then let me do my job. In fact, if you hadn't stopped me from doing it before, those campers would still be alive and we wouldn't be facing war with the werewolves right now."

Edward's jaw tightened and he meant to advance on Jasper, but Carlisle held him back, saying, "Don't, son. We're all on edge. Please, let's all calm down."

"Don't you _dare pull this number on me!_ " Edward barked at Jasper, jabbing a finger in his direction. "I'll calm down my own way! _Back off!_ "

"Children, please!" Esme cried out, anguished. "We're a family!"

Bella just blinked at them through her thoroughly enjoyable stupor. "I feel good."

"Of course you do, honey," Alice said, taking her by the shoulders and steering her away from both Edward and Jasper. "I'll take you upstairs again, so you can, uh…rest."

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to the owner of the voice. It was the unknown blonde, who'd approached the little group without Bella noticing.

Alice gave her a doubtful look. "Are you sure?"

The blonde nodded. "Yes. You should go out and hunt. You're starving. You too, Jasper," she said, and gave Bella a stiff little smile. "You don't know me, but I'm a friend of the family. My name is Irina."

Irina. That rang a bell. Bella tried smiling back, but she just felt so lethargic. "I'm Bella."

"I know," Irina said, put an arm around Bella's shoulders, and started steering her back upstairs, whilst everyone else stayed put. Once they got to Edward's room again, both of them sat down on the edge of the bed. "Can you think more clearly, now?"

Bella could. It was eerie. "He's…impressive. Jasper. Helpful."

"That's one way of putting it," Irina said, uttering a low-pitched, throaty, bitter little laugh. For a good long while, she just scrutinised Bella with a little frown creasing her forehead. "You really didn't see anything when the girl touched you, did you?" Bella only shook her head, after which Irina nodded briefly. "Good," she whispered, so that Bella could hardly understand her despite sitting right next to her. "She puts pictures in your mind, you know. It doesn't matter if they're true or not, you can't help but see what she wants you to see. Everyone she touches becomes her acolyte."

What was left of Bella's drug-induced tranquillity was pierced by cold, harsh horror. She froze up. "You?"

"I can see what's really happening, understand it, but I could never hurt her," Irina said, and one didn't need to be an empath or a mind-reader to see the obvious pain in her expression, to hear the anguish in her voice. "They say she isn't an immortal child, and in a sense, they're right: she's worse. They could charm all vampires they came in contact with, but your daughter is so much more powerful than that. She is something that _must not be_."

Bella stared at her, started to see the graininess of her skin, the veins, the pinkish fluid in the capillaries of her eyes her hair her lips her lashes the dust the light the-

She shut her eyes firmly and rode it out as well as she could. When she had herself under control again, she looked at Irina and managed to see not everything. That was good. That was a success. Jacob had taught her to focus on her successes. Was he a devotee of Renesmee's, too? The thought was painful and hard to bear.

"But…what do you want _me_ to do about it? That's my _daughter_." Without even aiming for it, she'd whispered this just as lowly as Irina had.

"If you don't do something, all of us will die," Irina said, placing her left hand atop Bella's right. "They will come here. They will be suspicious if I don't report to them soon, and they will _know_. They'll kill us all. They won't have a choice. You have to do something. _Please_."

Frowning and shaking her head jerkily, Bella whispered, "Who? Who will come here to kill us?"

Irina closed her eyes for a second, as if to gather herself. "The Volturi. They will find out, and they will rain destruction on every single one of us. That is a mathematic certainty."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: One, thank you lovely people for reading and reviewing. Two, yes, the plot thickens and a big showdown is soon to come - you're all right about that. Three, it's funny to me that the most vampiric of the characters, Jasper, seems to be one of the most popular. I like me some evil, unapologetic vamp, too. There is more where that came from. Four, in this chapter, there are blink-and-you'll-miss-them references to the following fandoms: Star Wars (the most obvious one), Red Dwarf, and Doctor Who. Just so you know that no theft was intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

 **1** **It was getting dark earlier and earlier as autumn started turning into winter.** The days got greyer and colder, too. Leah didn't mind. She'd never been one to complain about the weather, anyway, not even before it became meaningless. There was no cold in this part of the world that could hurt her. There was no scorching summer heat that could make her feel uncomfortable. Yes, she preferred the chill to the warmth, but neither bothered her – not really. The weather was the weather. Complaining never changed anything for the better, anyway.

That evening, after Bella met her precious daughter and ended up having a mild case of the vapours, the vampires went out hunting in small groups, whilst those who remained at the house, as well as the wolves, kept on their toes and just waited for the volatile new-born to lose it again. She didn't, though. Drinking the blood of four human adults apparently did the trick; it made a vampire able to coordinate itself, to keep itself in check, to think clearly. Yay for them.

Bella really hadn't thought this through when she'd decided to throw away her humanity, had she? Nope. That moron hadn't ever thought anything through in her entire goddamn life. Now, here they were, more worried about an undead, murderous thing's feelings than the fact that they were all doomed to die.

That night, once the vamps were all back from killing off the local fauna, they and the little pack convened in the living room. Everyone was there except for the death baby and Rosalie, who was no doubt wearing a creepy-ass smile on her face whilst watching the little freak sleep. Thank God for small favours, though; at least the demon-spawn _had_ to sleep, and she slept for twelve hours straight each night.

Once the last pair of leeches – Carlisle and Esme – came back from refuelling, they all sort of found themselves standing around in that ugly, tacky, nouveau-riche living room, staring at each other in uncomfortable silence.

Leah, who just spent the entire day marvelling at how warped these people's priorities were, could hardly refrain from groaning in frustration, tapping her foot on the floor incessantly, and yelling at them to just get on with it. Hell, she could almost sympathise with Bella and her earlier exasperated confusion. For people who always advocated talking oneself out of every pickle, they were astonishingly bad at just calling a spade a frigging spade.

"We'll meet up with Sam tomorrow at dawn," Jacob finally broke the silence. He was standing close to the big staircase, as close to the demon-spawn as he could without dashing upstairs, Leah supposed. He looked tired and worn-out and haggard. Small wonder, too: between playing the fool for the demon-spawn and nursing Bella, he hadn't gotten around to sleeping or eating much. "Can't put it off longer than that. The risk of one of them finding out is too big."

"Well, no kidding," Leah said, scoffed, and irritably brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. Yeah, she could do with some sleep, herself. "The whole thing wasn't exactly subtle, and even if you buried the remains well, and nobody notices that those people are missing, your…smell, vampires, is all over the place."

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." That was Bella, who was standing by the big couch, flanked by Alice and Jasper.

What was up with Jasper, anyway? Leah could understand that he'd be drugging Bella non-stop after this morning's snafu, but he was all but glued to Bella, now, much to Wardo's obvious annoyance. Was it because they bonded over being murderous, hungry psychos? No, Bella seemed genuinely regretful. Maybe he was just glad that she sucked as much as a new-born as he had, back in his day. Could be he was simply looking for an ally to join him, Obi-Wan. The Dark Side has fresh blood from the vein!

"It's okay, Bella," Esme said sweetly, screwing on what she obviously believed to be a motherly smile.

Leah, who was unfortunately standing right next to her, scowled at her. " _It's okay_? Are you _serious_ , lady? I mean, what the hell? How is any of this okay? It freaking isn't, so _stop making excuses for murder!_ "

Esme flinched and stared at her feet. Wow, someone didn't like arguing.

Leah knew that her attitude wasn't helping any, but frankly, she didn't have a single fuck to give about these _things'_ sensibilities. Someone owed it to the four dead people to speak up on their behalf. To do something. Anything. For _God's_ sake.

"Leah…" Seth started, and yawned heartily. He was the only one who was sitting, and he was nearly falling asleep on the smaller couch.

"No, Seth! Don't you dare 'Leah' me!" She glared at each of them furiously. "Are you people for real? Bella here murdered, _brutally murdered_ four human beings, and you treat it like she broke a vase or wet the bed or something. _These are lives we're talking about!_ " She threw her hands up. " _You assholes just don't give a damn!_ "

"What do you expect us to do?" Emmett said, eyebrows raised. He was with Edward by the big window next to the front door. "Roll on the floor, bawling? It happened. There's no gluing those folks back together. They're gone. Instead of bitching us out, honey, why don't you suggest something constructive for once?"

Leah stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Were these people all idiots? "You want me to suggest something constructive? Okay, here goes: run. Seriously, grab your shit and run far, far away, because once Sam finds out what you, what _we_ allowed to happen here, he'll have no choice but to declare war on us."

"You seem to want that to happen pretty badly," Emmett returned, obviously unimpressed.

Exasperated, Leah slapped her hands to her face and groaned. When she dropped them again, her cheeks felt flushed. "Are you incapable of processing this information, numb-nut? There is a treaty which all of us violated. Actions have consequences, and wishing it all away won't work this time. Also, I want that to happen? _Excuse me?_ In case you've forgotten, Chuckles, I'm one of you now, like it or not. If Sam attacks us, I'll be forced to fight him. I don't want any bloodshed, but we brought this on ourselves. You should be a tiny bit more concerned about all of it than, oh, I don't know, _not at all!_ "

"We can't leave," Patriarch Cullen declared gravely, hands on his hips, frowning. Good God, that guy looked as if he'd jumped straight out of the JC Penney fall collection catalogue.

"It wouldn't make a difference, anyway," Jacob said, scratching his forehead. "The treaty's been violated. They'd hunt you – us. Even if we left, they would hunt us down mercilessly. Besides, I don't know about you, but I won't let anyone chase me away from my home."

"We won't, either," Emmett said, flexing his muscles like this was intimidating or something.

Without even thinking about it, Leah exchanged a meaningful look with Jacob, and when both of them realised that they'd done something comradely, as small as it was, they snickered.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Emmett," Edward said, annoyed and world-weary. "They're just glad they found some common ground."

"Well, you see, that's a hopeful start," Esme said, batting her eyelashes and posing like a model for Housewife's Yearly 1955. Good gravy. This was a loony bin, not a household. Everyone had turned into the worst cliché of themselves. "If you can put aside your differences, and all of us can get along, then I'm sure we can come to an agreement with Sam, too."

As Leah only face-palmed, Jacob said, "We'll try, at least. Tomorrow morning, I'll go talk to him."

Leah crossed her arms below her chest. "Well, you're not going alone. I'm going with you, whether you like it or not."

To her surprise, he actually smiled grimly at her. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you."

"I'm going, too." Everyone's eyes were on Jasper, who smirked slightly. "In case things go south."

"It'll at least buy us some time," Jacob said. "Don't rely too much on your super-dope, though."

The little moment of camaraderie was gone as Leah stared at him with utter incredulity. "Are you _serious_? Sam's gonna _flip_ if you bring one of the vamps into this! One who helped cover up the-"

" _It's decided_ ," Jacob cut in sharply. "Don't argue with me, Leah."

She chuckled humourlessly, bit her lower lip, and shook her head. " _Fine_. Okay. Whatever."

"I'll go, as well," Bella said lowly, not looking at anyone in particular, even though everyone was staring at her. "I have to." With visible reluctance, she raised her head and locked eyes with Leah. "You're right: I killed four people. I have to take responsibility for that. If Sam has to punish anyone, he can punish me."

"That's not gonna happen," Edward said, jaw tense, eyes narrowed. "I won't let you endanger yourself."

"I don't want to cause anyone else any pain!"

Edward stepped up to her and took her hands into his. "Bella, you're too selfless, always putting yourself in danger to protect everyone else. We're a family. We stand together."

Bella bit her lower lip, looked down at her feet, and shook her head. "Edward, that's not even true…what you're saying about me. I was so selfish. I see that now, and because of that, for once, I got to do what's right. I _have_ to. Please understand that."

"If you go there tomorrow," he said, "you will _die_. Please understand that I cannot let that happen. You might not remember this very well, but I promised to keep you safe no matter what. You're my wife. I won't let you get hurt. I don't care if you think that you need to kill yourself in order to atone for something that wasn't even your fault, but your nature. I won't let you. I won't. It's as simple as that. Don't you know that?"

"I do," Bella said quietly, "and I remember."

"Then you understand," he said, smiled a little, and then turned to look at Jacob. "I'll go in her stead."

Jacob shrugged. "Fine by me."

Leah rolled her eyes. "All aboard the fail train, then, and happy hunting." She ignored Jacob's pointed, yet unsurprised admonishing glare.

"Good," Carlisle said, either oblivious to the tension, or just simply ignoring it. These days, with demon-spawn as their merry puppet-mistress, it was all but impossible to tell. "You and your pack should get some rest, Jacob. Tomorrow is going to require all your concentration."

Would it, ever. As Leah stomped outside, biting back all the expletives she wanted to throw at the heads of these murder-apologist leeches, she couldn't help but wonder whether they all realised that today might not just be the longest day of their lives, it might also be their last.

* * *

 **2** **If there was something that Dimitrios Koteas of once – bearing the anglicised name 'Demetri' for the past few centuries – truly hated, it was the cold**. His home town, Kalamata in the Peloponnese peninsula, was a prime example of the best of Mediterranean climate: hot, dry summers and mild, slightly rainy winters. Most days were sunny and hot and flawless. If one stood at the harbour and stared out at the sea, it was akin to being at the centre of a giant, dark-blue, glistening sphere. To him, it was the most beautiful place on Earth.

Even after being forcefully turned into a vampire by the Egyptian Amun, Demetri had never really stopped missing the carefree days of his youth. He'd lived with his mother as a mortal, and even though their life had not been easy, it had been happy. Vampirism had changed all that. From one moment to the next, it was all gone, and everyone he had ever known and cherished was dead, lost to him forever.

Not being a total idiot, Demetri knew that when Charma, Charmion, a.k.a. Chelsea of the Volturi came for him, she worked her power (and what an aptly named woman that was!) to break his sire-bond to Amun, so that Demetri would join her coven in Italy. She worked her power and the fact that she was Greek and the fact that she was fucking gorgeous and the fact that sire-bond or no, Demetri _hated_ the murderous idiot that had destroyed his life. He'd told Charma that he would gladly join her coven, that he would help maintain the law of the chaotic vampire world in any way that he could. There was no question that this was the only good that he could do as an undead, blood-drinking monster.

Volterra was a great place governed by great people. Until he got there, Demetri had had no idea that a vampire government even existed. This was another thing Amun had lied to him about. There were rules. There had to be rules. Demetri understood that. From the moment he got there, he devoted his life to upholding the law. It gave his existence meaning. There was nothing, not ever, that could compare to making the best out of a terrible situation by actually doing some _good_. Vampires were stupid. They were arrogant. They were sloppy. Without rules, they would catch the eye of the humans soon enough, and humans were nothing if not ingenious when it came to finding ways of getting rid of threats.

The rules of the vampire world were few and simple, and still, so many people found them impossible to follow. That was why a governing body was needed, and Demetri was glad to be a part of that. He enjoyed serving a cause that was greater than himself, that stood above everyone and everything. However, doing his duty required a lot of travelling. That was exciting for the most part, but sometimes, it was annoying, too – like the times he was sent to the more inhospitable places of the planet, such as Washington State in North America. It always seemed to rain there, and it got _really_ goddamn cold. Maybe this was his own subjective perception paired with obviously psychosomatic symptoms, but this autumn, he was freezing all the time. Vampires were colder than humans, yes, meaning that they perceived lower temperatures as pleasant…most of them, at least.

For some unfathomable reason nobody could explain to him, Demetri was always cold. Well, that wasn't precisely true. It wasn't _always_. It only happened when he was forced to wait for a prolonged period of time at a place that never got hot. Once he was on the move and following a trail, the cold disappeared. Who knew that a vampire could have a psychosomatic boo-boo? A boo-boo he was perfectly aware he only clung on to because it was a bridge between his old life and his new?

It was a little bit pathetic, which was why he usually kept his discomfort to himself, so he wouldn't expose himself to his friends' ridicule. Not that this stopped anyone from making fun of him whenever they noticed that he was wearing a scarf and gloves and a hat on snowy days even though it made no sense, since he didn't have any blood-flow to heat his body. The mockery wasn't mean-spirited, though. He took it in stride. They all had quirks, and they all laughed at each other and themselves. It was part of being such a closely-knit group.

After spending so many centuries in the company of the same people, they were family to him; he would do anything to keep them from harm. He had lost his mother, which had taught him the most valuable lesson of his existence: family and loyalty were _everything_. There was no way he was ever going to let anyone threaten those he loved again.

He was over a thousand years old, but even so, spending only a few months by himself in freaking Seattle was lonely and boring as all hell. His tracking abilities made him the best choice for this job, though: he didn't just know the Cullens, he could always sense their whereabouts and would be able to either act or retreat, should the occasion call for it. Also, he knew the Denali sisters, since he'd been there when his people had had to kill the immortal little boy who was wreaking havoc in the villages around Kremnica. He'd killed the boy's progenitor, Aleksandra, himself. That stupid, irresponsible woman's other three creations, the sisters, had had nothing to do with the forbidden child, and were therefore spared, of course.

They'd stood by and watched as their sire and the child were torn to pieces and burned, though.

Demetri had told the three sisters that it would be better if they did not see this, but they'd insisted. He'd respected that. He respected strength of character in a person, no matter who they were or where they hailed from.

He knew them, and he knew that the youngest of them was very bitter about the loss of the man she'd developed feelings for, who'd been murdered by the Cullens' werewolf allies. The Cullens of course believed that the Volturi didn't know about the wolves. They were mistaken. It was just another one of the crimes that they had committed against the vampire community, putting them all in danger. If it had been up to Demetri and to Irina, the Cullens would've met their end a good long while ago, but Aro didn't like wielding the hammer if he didn't absolutely have to. That was why Demetri was here: to observe, to collect information, to decide whether these people should be allowed to live or if they had to die.

Demetri knew them. He knew the terrain. He knew Irina and honestly sympathised with her pain and her wish to be loved and to be happy. He knew how to track better than anyone, and how to stay out of sight. Yes, he'd requested someone be sent with him to help and to keep him company. However, he understood that the more of them strolled about, the higher the chance became that they were discovered. Stealth was key in this operation. He had no doubt that the Cullens would fuck up yet again. He had no doubt that they would give the Volturi an excuse to rain hellfire on their self-righteous heads.

Snapping out of all these grave ruminations, he looked out of his hotel room, realised that the sun had gone down, put on his coat (no, it didn't help), and went outside. He was thirsty, and he needed to take care of that before it got out of hand. The weather was dreary; it was cast over and drizzling, but since it was Friday evening, the city was filled with people wanting to have a good time. It shouldn't be too hard for him to lure someone into a quiet corner with a bit of friendly charm, slip them a sedative, and help himself to a little of their blood.

As he walked down the streets slowly and trying not to tense up against the cold he couldn't even physically feel, he wondered what was going on in Forks. Irina had been there for over a week, now, but ever since she'd set out to see her dear 'cousins', he hadn't heard from her. That was odd. She hated those people. She'd been so determined to help his cause. Now, she couldn't find the time to send him a text? To call? Something was definitely going on, there. Something was _wrong_.

* * *

 **3** **Back at the hotel, after a successful and deathless night out, he called Chelsea from one of his prepaid mobile phones.** Leaving some sort of paper trail might not be completely avoidable, but whatever he could pay in cash, he did. He never stayed too long in one place, either, and he preferred to drug and only partially drain his prey instead of killing or accidentally turning it – better safe than sorry. One could never be too careful these days. Keeping a low profile was more important than ever.

Chelsea picked up the phone after two rings, as usual. " _Hey, handsome. Anything new?_ "

He'd dropped himself on the armchair he'd moved to face the big panorama window and was now watching traffic flow by several stories below. "In a sense. I haven't heard from Irina."

" _You were expecting to, so soon?_ "

"I was. I realise that I might be overreacting, and with anyone else that would probably be true, but in this case" – He leaned his head back and closed his eyes – "there's something going on; I am _certain_ of it."

" _So, how would you proceed?_ "

"How would I proceed?" he echoed, and had to smile. Chelsea and her interrogation techniques. She was quite something, that lady – quite something. He should know. "I need to get a hold of her, but I won't call. If she is in trouble, I can't give myself away for no good reason. That means I have to scout out the area and get the lay of the land."

" _All without the precog Seeing you_?"

That made him crack a broad smile. "I'm not an idiot, love. Leave it to me. I'll find out what's going on before you can even start missing me."

" _Oh, I always miss you_ ," she replied, clearly playful. " _Keep me posted. The boss wants updates_."

"I'll do my best not to disappoint." Without waiting for a reply, he hung up, rose to his feet, gathered what little possessions he had, and checked out.

There was no time to waste. He had a strange feeling that something awful was unfolding. It was his duty to stop it, and he knew exactly how to get so close that none of the Cullens would ever know what had hit them.

* * *

 **4** **In Forks, Leah was sitting in the grass in front of the house, all by herself.** Seth was inside, sleeping soundly on the couch, and Jacob had nodded off on one of the armchairs; she could hear both of them snoring. They'd been wolves most of the day, but even out here, alone, she decided to stay human. There was so little humanity around her, she felt like holding onto what was left of her own. It wasn't just that, though. No, she needed some time to herself. She needed her thoughts to be her own for a while. There were enough vigilant eyes and ears about, and if it became necessary, she'd wolf out in a heartbeat.

Just to discourage Wardo from nosing around in her brain, she pictured some very nasty hentai porn at the front of her mind. This trick kept him away well enough, and she didn't even notice it anymore. It did its purpose of repelling the prudish little bastard from poking around her superficial thoughts, and that was what mattered. She knew that Alaska Blonde shut him out by thinking in her native language. There were several methods less offensive than Leah's, but why not have a little fun making the uptight little fucker uncomfortable? This was all his fault, after all. He'd brought Bella into the fold. He'd been incapable of keeping his secret or his promise of staying the hell away from her.

To be fair, there was plenty of blame to go around. Bella was guilty of being shallow and materialistic and unable to see beyond the superficial allure of eternal youth and wealth. The Cullens were guilty of flaunting their money and the fact that they were obviously not human in everyone's faces. The wolves were guilty of indulging Jacob's adolescent, hormone-fuelled tantrums. Leah was guilty of not being able to stand being telepathically linked to her ex, which had led her here, to the enemy's side, in the enemy's defence. They were all guilty, one way or another. Piling it all on Edward wasn't okay, because he wasn't he only one who had made huge, cataclysmic mistakes.

Keeping him out of her thoughts by any means necessary, though…that was fair enough in her book. It was both fair and amusing, and screw that prissy dipshit for eavesdropping, in the first place.

Life had become so messed up, so complicated, so _ugly_. All the time, her mind circled around the same questions: what was Sam going to do once he found out about Bella's little killing spree? Was the leech from Alaska really justified in her initial terror of the death baby (and thank God Leah had refused to let that ungodly freak touch her)? Would the shadowy vampire government come here and kill them all for allowing the death baby to live? Was Jacob's personality wiped away forever?

Had the whole world gone completely mad?

Yeah, of course it had. Obviously. Didn't keep her from pondering the issue, though.

What the hell was she supposed to do about any of this? It was clear that she had to do _something_. From all sides, threats were emerging, and if they all just drank the Kool-Aid and sat on their asses singing Kumbaya, they would end up dead – all of them. Now, Leah didn't give two shits about the vamps and the demon-spawn, but she cared very much about Jacob and, most of all, about her stupid baby brother.

Yes, he was a pain in the butt. Yes, he was dumb as a brick, and yes, he was blinded by the sparkly vampire glamour. That didn't mean she loved him any less. She was his big sister, goddamn it. It was her duty to look out for him, and even if not, she would do that anyway. His gratefulness didn't factor into it a single bit.

Something had to happen. She needed to take action if these people were all either too dumb, too blind, or too brainwashed to see what was right in front of their faces. It wasn't the only reason she felt compelled to act, either. Oh, no. The demon-spawn? That thing was freaking horrifying. Every person it touched, no matter what species, turned into a drone of its collective – every single one of them, without exception.

Wait, no, that wasn't true. Bella hadn't.

It was enough to make Leah want to laugh out loud. Bella Swan, Spineless Wonder, had actually resisted the death baby's charms and, what was even more impressive, because it wasn't due to some innate vampire power, she had rebelled against everyone's bullshit today. Yeah, okay, that had only lasted for a second, until Jasper had psycho-drugged her, but it was better than nothing. It was more than Bella had ever displayed in terms of a spine. From outside, Leah had listened and watched the spectacle unfold with a grudging amount of respect for the dumb twit.

Actually, it was more incredulity than respect, because she had always frigging despised that conceited, spineless cow, and any and all show of personality was a refreshing change. That didn't make the fact that Bella had murdered four people brutally any better, but hey, at least she had tried to feel bad about it, until once again, Jasper had put the kibosh on that sentimental nonsense. What a guy.

It didn't even matter if Bella had a spine or if she regretted having thrown her life away. Bella was immune to her sweet little daughter's brainwashing powers. Wardo couldn't read her mind, either. Maybe she was intelligent enough to understand the hellish horrors that were unfolding right in front of her nose. Maybe she was the only one capable of actually helping to put a stop to that eldritch abomination she had given birth to.

The thought of recruiting Bella Swan to participate in a conspiracy meant to stop a diabolic horror from spreading over the world was so ludicrous, Leah almost broke out into hysterics again. Jesus. The girl was a murderer, and because of her, Sam would want to kill all of the Cullens and their allies, as would be his right. Still, Bella was impervious to the demon-spawn's unholy charms. Maybe she really was Leah's only hope of averting a catastrophe. Everyone else, even the obviously freaked-out Alaskan Blonde, was totally useless.

It was up to Leah to do something…to Leah and Bella, the odd couple, potential partners in crime, Good Cop and Bad Wolf.

That must be the most ridiculous pitch for a cop-buddy comedy in the history of the planet.

 _Hell_ , yeah, the world had gone completely mad. Of course it had. What a preposterous notion, thinking that it might actually still be in any way sane. Oh, well. All aboard the crazy train, then. Whatever. It was either roll with it or get run over.

With a smile on her face, Leah shook her head at her own silliness, lay down on her back, and closed her eyes. She fell asleep immediately. Death by wolfy justice would have to wait until tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

 **1** **After everything was decided, Bella went upstairs to take a look at her sleeping daughter**. This was, curiously enough, the first time since she'd turned that she walked from A to B without someone telling her to go there (this morning's panic attack didn't count). Of course, this was the first day she'd actually done anything on her own (and what a day it had been!). Still, they didn't just let her prance around unsupervised – well, Jasper didn't. Even though she knew that being followed around all the time would soon get old, Bella was actually glad of it. After what she'd done this morning, there was no leaving her alone. She'd dismissed the hardships of being a new-born when she'd still been human. Worse than that, she'd just accepted the fact that she'd probably end up murdering innocent human beings on her road to becoming a mature, 'vegetarian' vampire.

That was despicable, to say the least.

Hadn't she had any conscience? Had she been that blinded by the sparkly glamour of vampirism?

The answer was unpleasant, but simple: yes. Yes, she had been. She'd wanted youth and wealth and eternal life. She'd wanted to dazzle lowly humans with her supernatural beauty. She'd wanted to lord her speed and strength and power over everyone.

Now, she was trapped in this foreign body that could only function properly if it fed on the living blood of human beings. She was a parasite. There was no other word that could describe the nature of her existence more properly. That was what she was. That was the price she had been willing to pay when she'd still been a human, a part of nature.

Gingerly, she stepped into the room Renesmee's quick, feathery heartbeat came from. It was Rosalie and Emmett's bedroom. Just like Edward's, it was pretty richly furnished, sporting a truly huge bed, a commode, shelves with DVDs and CDs on them, loads of framed pictures and some pretty old-looking jewellery boxes. Renesmee's small and slender frame almost got lost in that monster of a bed. Next to her, Rosalie sat, frozen like a statue, watching the little girl sleep. Rosalie didn't blink, didn't move, didn't breathe; she just sat there, perfectly still, watching. She had that enchanted, fascinated look on her face that just seemed so out of place, because it simply didn't fit in with what Bella knew of Rosalie's personality.

Hey, she remembered! Three months of confusion seemed all but wiped away, and Bella could recall more and more of what she'd lived through and who she'd been. True, it still felt like reading someone else's biography, but it was better than nothing. It had to be the human blood – it just had to. Would this wear off once the blood started working its way out of her system? She'd have to ask Jasper about it. He'd know. He'd be the only one to actually talk candidly about any of this, too. He, at least, understood.

"Rosalie," Bella said lowly, softly, not wanting to startle anyone.

"You can speak normally," Rosalie said, not taking her eyes off the child. She reached out and gently caressed Renesmee's rich brown curls. "She won't wake. She needs her rest, which is why I always watch over her at night. No-one must be allowed to pose a risk to my perfect little angel."

Having to force herself to move, Bella slowly walked to the bed's side and looked down at her child. The girl looked so sweet, so innocent, sleeping like this. Yes, it was a cliché, but that didn't make it any less true. There were so many questions her mere existence raised, though, apparent innocence or not. Was Renesmee even a child? Was this a clueless little girl, or did she know exactly what was happening? Irina had told Bella that Renesmee had an adult mind, that she'd been born with it. She'd also told Bella that Jacob had imprinted on Renesmee, and that therefore, he could not be trusted to do the right thing at all.

What was the right thing, though?

This was her child – her baby. Bella had carried her to term and birthed her. She'd died in the process of giving birth, in fact. Here she was, looking down at this sleeping kid, her kid, saw herself in the child's features, and yet…

…and yet, she felt _nothing_. This was so, so strange. She had a daughter – powerful, supernatural, possibly malevolent, maybe only amoral – and could not feel love for her. Didn't love for one's offspring come naturally? Well, yes, in humans it did, and in the beginning, it was mostly due to hormones. Bella didn't have any human hormones being produced to ensure that she love and care for a helpless infant. Bella wasn't human, and Renesmee did not require her care.

This was all so, so messed up.

As Bella recalled bits and pieces of her pregnancy, she wondered why no-one had thought it out of character for her to cling so desperately to this unborn baby. Bella had never wanted children in her _life_. She had dreaded sharing her mom's fate: getting pregnant at a young age and letting the responsibilities of parenthood wreck her teenage years, produce and end a marriage before said marriage had even a chance of blossoming. It hadn't just been that, though. Bella had not wanted kids, full stop. Then, the moment she'd become aware of her pregnancy, she'd been willing to throw her own life away without even questioning this, without considering the alternative? This was so weird. It was _creepy_.

"What does she eat?" she asked, instead.

Rosalie would still not look away from the girl. "Blood. Human food, too – red meat, mostly. We feed her everything. She's very uncomplicated that way."

"Good," Bella said dully. Well, it _was_ good. If Renesmee could eat human food, no-one had to die for her. Yes, the blood-bags they used couldn't help humans in need, so that meant death to a lot of them, too, but perhaps, at some point, Renesmee could be weaned off the blood and-

" _Why can't you see what she wants to show you?_ " Rosalie stared up at Bella out of big, cold, unblinking yellow eyes.

The sudden movement and the harshness of Rosalie's granite face made Bella flinch and recoil. She felt Jasper's hand on her elbow and nodded at him. "It's all right," she said, and made herself face Rosalie again. The capillaries in Rosalie's eyes seemed to be pulsating with the pinkish-white mucus flowing through them, and it was hard to look at that and not give into the impulse of grimacing. "I'm a shield, like Edward said. I can't help it."

"All she wants is to have a loving family," Rosalie said flatly, her expression blank and stony. This was…what _was_ this? A symptom of being too exposed to Renesmee's power? Something normal for a vampire? It was so hard to _tell_.

Bella only knew that she knew nothing at all about what was natural for her kind and what wasn't. This was so annoying. Worse than that, it was potentially life-threatening. "Of course," she said, not even bothering to try to smile. It would only look fake. "She has that, whether I can see what she wants to show me, or not."

" _Promise_."

Again, Rosalie's tone made Bella wince. As a human, she probably would have gotten a dry mouth or a knot in the throat. Maybe her heart would have started beating faster. She probably would have started sputtering like a moron. There was nothing there, though, apart from the wish to run away fast and hard. "I promise." Her voice was deadpan and betrayed no emotion whatsoever. For the first time, she was glad of it. Not that she'd had problems telling lies as a human, but now, in her confusion, she'd probably fail spectacularly.

"Good." Rosalie focussed her attention on Renesmee again, smiling. "You hear that, sweetie? Everything is all right. We all love you so much. We will never, ever allow anyone to hurt you. You're safe. You're safe forever."

"I'll…go," Bella said, feeling stupid, and woodenly marched out of there, down the hall, into Edward's bedroom. Jasper followed her. Once in the room, she turned around to face him. "You don't have to stalk me, you know. I'm fine."

"What when the living blood starts wearing off? Will you still be fine?"

She looked at him, saw his face and the scars and the yellow of his eyes (there was a strangely appealing, interesting symmetry to the pattern of criss-cross lines on his skin), felt relief at being able to see not everything ever all at once, and shook her head. "I have no idea. You tell me. Will I go back to being blind and deaf and dumb and useless?"

Unsurprisingly, he smirked. "Yes," he said. "That's exactly what's gonna happen."

"How long until it starts?"

"Two weeks, maybe less. You still have traces of human remains in your cells – your remains. You don't need as much blood as a mature vampire. If you keep drinking dead blood from a bag, the deterioration will be slower, but it'll happen. Your memory will start to slip. You will get sluggish, weaker, more sensitive to pain, emotionally numb. Maybe you'll even relapse into sensory chaos. Not all vampires react the same, but some of the symptoms are universal."

Bella raised her eyebrows at him. "You could at least say you're sorry."

"You want me to lie to you?" he said, and snickered when he clearly saw something that amused him on her face. "Look at you, all shocked and awed. It's the life you chose, Bella. You should be grateful someone at least has the guts to give it to you straight."

Again, she had to admit that he had a point. "True," she said. "So, living on blood-bags will render me helpless, eventually."

"Yes, ma'am." Well, didn't he seem chipper about it?

Dread washed over her like an ice-cold tsunami. Bella sat down on the bed and stared at him, wide-eyed. "But…living animal blood?"

He laughed softly, rubbed at his eyes, shook his head. "I truly hate to break it to you, sweets, but it's _disgusting_. It tastes like hot garbage. That's the single most repulsive crap you'll ever put in your mouth, and I am neither exaggerating, nor making some sophomoric innuendo. You'll hate it. Everybody hates it. _I_ hate it. It's revolting and it makes you stupid."

"But…it's living blood, so…doesn't it-"

"Keep your brain functioning? In a sense. It's better than dead blood from a bag, which doesn't do much good at all long-term apart from tasting decent, but it's not the real deal, either. Also, the taste of animal blood, no matter which animal it's from, is truly _terrible_. It makes you nauseous even after decades of forcing it down your gullet. Chances are, you'll just chuck it all up again the first few dozen times you try it. I know I did. Why do you think it's so damn hard to keep to that diet? Surely not because it's less appealing, like a turnip would be to a steak."

"I…that's just awful. Why did no-one tell me any of this before?"

"Would you have listened?" He waited, but she just kept on staring at him, dumbstruck. "Didn't think so, either."

That was when Bella heard heavy steps trudging up the stairs.

Little later, Edward appeared in the doorframe. He had a pained, serious expression on his weird, grainy face. "Jasper, I need to talk to my wife – alone."

Jasper just kept on serenely scrutinising Bella for a few more seconds, but then he nodded, said, "I'll be downstairs if you need me," and ambled outside.

A small, awkward eternity went by as Bella and Edward just looked at each other in silence. Finally, when she was about to say something just to get the ball rolling, he closed the door, pulled the desk-chair up, and planted himself in it. Another good long while passed whilst he just stared down at his hands on his knees.

"I knew that this was gonna be difficult – your transformation. I knew it," he said quietly, and it sounded so defeated, Bella didn't know whether to feel sad or angry. "I just didn't think it would be like _this_."

"You've witnessed other people's transformations."

"This is different. It's worse with you. You're worse."

Anger flashed through her petrified innards like a white-hot poker. She bristled. "What you really want to say is that I suck as a vampire, isn't it? That I let you down?"

"That's not it – not all of it, in any case. The real difference between how I felt about other people turning and you is this: I didn't _care_ about how they saw me, about how they reacted to me. I care about your reactions, though. I care about your feelings toward me and how you see me," he said, and raised his face to look at her. "You wouldn't let me help you when you were helpless. You basically kicked me out of the room. Then, three months later, you had a panic attack when you saw me, crashed out of a window, and went on to kill four humans. Am I not supposed to take that personally?"

Bella just blinked at him in surprise for a while. What? When had he tried to help her? When had her transformation difficulties become about him? This was all so confusing. "I didn't panic because of you. I panicked because of _me_. I looked in the mirror and saw a monster."

"You looked at me and saw one, first."

"Well, no-one bothered to tell me that that was gonna happen before I turned."

His expression became unfriendly. "I didn't want to turn you at all."

That was true. She closed her eyes for a moment. "That's on me. I know that now. I'm sorry I was so selfish. It's not your fault." She shrugged, resigned. "It's mine. I should not have placed that burden on your shoulders. Please forgive me."

"So…are we even still married, Bella? Do you love me? Now that I don't look like I used to, now that you see me how I really am, can you still love me?"

Her head started pounding in dull pain. She kept her eyes closed, counted to ten, made herself face him again. He didn't look like a monster anymore. Yes, he was still anything but human, and it was still odd to see him like this, but with all that living human blood inside of her, she could look at him and imagine how it must be like to see something beautiful. She could almost remember what it had felt like to be infatuated – almost. Not quite.

"I hardly know who _I_ am right now," she said, at length. "Please don't make me answer that question. I can't – not now."

"With all that blood in your body, you should know how you feel. All I want is to know if we're still a couple."

She shook her head jerkily. "Don't bully me, Edward. I can't answer your question. I don't even know if I want to live…no, to _exist_ like this. How can I even begin to think about marriage? It's all so far removed from me. I'm already acting against my better judgment and not going with Jacob to see Sam tomorrow morning, just because you asked me to." Told her to, actually, but why be pedantic about it? It would only antagonise him more. "Please just give me some space."

He let it sink in for a moment, nodded, and pushed himself up to his feet. "Don't take too long. I can't take my heart being broken all over again," he said, and left the room without waiting for a reply.

Bella stared after him, dumbstruck and lost for words.

* * *

 **2** **The morning came quickly, and from the moment Leah woke up, she was pervaded by a strange sensation of end-times**. Instead of crushing her down with the weight of fear, this made her feel light, weightless. It was funny, in the sense of both strange and amusing. Something similar had happened back when she had still been part of Sam's pack and they had all (well, most of them) fought Victoria's new-born army. That day, death had been a distinct possibility, but today, it was almost a certainty. Sam would probably not kill the messengers right there and then (he was a good man despite the imprint), but he'd decide to end this horror-show. She couldn't picture a scenario where he would just let the Cullens walk.

Anyway, speculating her impending doom was moot. Either Sam would decide to declare war on them, or he would not. He'd already agreed to meet them halfway between Forks and their territory, in the forest, to talk. Jacob would plead his case. Sam would listen. The rest was written in the stars, but only an idiot would cling onto hope of a peaceful outcome at this point. The treaty had been broken too many times, and now, four human beings had paid the ultimate price. There was no taking that back. Promises of keeping Bella on a leash from now on would not work. People had _died_. If Leah wasn't stuck with Team Murder, she'd be the first to advocate erasing this blight that were these vampires from the face of the Earth. Things being as they were, though, she was going to do her best to protect her pack; protecting her pack, however, unfortunately meant protecting the Cullens and the demon-spawn.

No, it wasn't ideal, but what the hell. Life wasn't fair. Boo-hoo. You picked up the pieces, glued them back together, and moved on. You adapted.

You adapted or you got left by the roadside, i.e. you fucking died. End of story. _Finito_.

This time, they didn't phase into wolves in order to run to the meeting point; no, they remained human and drove up to the place in question in one of the flashy Cullen cars, with Jasper and Edward riding shotgun and driving, respectively.

During the short ride, no-one said a word. The two vampires were, as usual, dressed to impress in obviously expensive jackets and gloves and scarves, even though the clothes couldn't warm them. Jacob was only in jeans and t-shirt, whilst Leah had pulled on the oldest sweater she owned. If she did have to phase in a hurry, she'd shed no tears over this worn-out, shapeless, holey thing getting ripped to shreds.

When they got to the spot in question, they stopped the car by the side of the road, got out in silence, and walked into the forest slowly, calmly. To Leah, it felt like she was dreaming. It wasn't real, somehow. Her brain refused to acknowledge the absurdity of the entire situation. The weather wasn't helping, either, what with the cloudless blue sky and the cheerful sunshine. Well, if they were going down, at least they would go down in style.

"Are we early or are they late?" Jasper said, as they got to the designated spot at a small clearing through which a little creek bubbled.

"They're late, of course," Edward said.

"No, they're not, and don't say 'of course' like it's the most obvious thing ever," Jacob said, glaring at him. "Jackass."

"Whose side are you on, again?" Edward shot back, tensing up.

Jacob's expression turned defeated. "You know whose side I'm on. That doesn't mean I'm gonna let you push me around, understand?"

"If you two keep going like this, Sam won't have problems deciding anything," Leah said, shaking her head, crossing her arms. "If Jacob bites it, there's no need to protect the imprint. If Wardo does, Bella will kill herself and there'll be no more need for retribution. Problem solved."

"You're not helping," Jacob said, making a face.

"I wasn't trying to."

"Stop it, children, before one of the adults has to step in and take punitive measures," Jasper said, sounding jovial. "Listen up; here they come."

Company was on the way, indeed: three of them, as far as Leah could hear. Of course Sam wasn't going to come alone, but bringing only two other wolves for backup was bold. Well, to be fair, Sam probably didn't know what the little Cullen envoy had to confess.

"Only three," Jasper said very lowly, his voice a barely audible whisper. "If they attack, we can take them on."

"They won't attack, and no-one will get hurt," Jacob shot back, keeping his voice down, too. "Don't provoke them, and don't make them aggressive on purpose."

"I'm not doing anything. You need to take a deep breath and calm down, boy."

"Jasper…" Edward said, exasperated.

Jacob glared daggers at Jasper. "Did you just call me 'boy', you racist piece of crap?"

"Was I stuttering?" Jasper said, grinning.

Man, this asshole really was itching to fight someone, wasn't he?

"Cool it, Jake, he's doing it on purpose," Leah said, touching Jacob's arm. If her intrepid leader lost his composure now, this would all end in utter disaster.

"Oh, I suppose it's okay, then," Jacob shot back.

Before anyone could contribute any further soundbites to this bickering fest, they walked through the trees into the clearing: Sam, Quil, and Embry. They'd come by car, too, apparently, or they'd phased back into humans and gotten dressed way farther back.

Not that it mattered. Leah told herself to focus on the moment and not let her mind wander. Was she really this convinced of her impending doom that she couldn't even pay attention to the big picture anymore? Wow. Yeah, well, at least she'd die in sarcasm-mode. One had to be grateful for the little things.

Sam, who'd taken the lead, stomped in their direction with a scowl on his sharp-angled, handsome face, and his hands balled into fists. The two boys following him didn't look much friendlier. When Sam's eyes flitted over Leah, the scowl deepened a bit, which stung, but okay. There was nothing she could do about that. He probably felt betrayed about her leaving and trailing Seth behind her. He'd have a bit of a point, there, if this was really the case; she had to admit that.

His eyes focussed on Jacob. "Did you really think that we wouldn't find out? Did you really think that? Are you so deluded that you believed burying the remains of those poor dead people would be enough to keep us in the dark? We could smell that new-born's stink all the way from La Push. We _know_." Colour drained from his face, and he pressed his lips together, breathed hard, fought for composure. His entire body was trembling, and for a moment, Leah was sure that he would wolf out. He caught himself, though, thankfully, and remained human. "We can't let this one slide, Jacob. After everything we tolerated, this is the last straw. All the pain your vampire friends caused, all the loss and suffering…it stops here."

"Now hold on a second, Sam," Jacob said, hands raised, and meant to advance on the three wolves, but the hostile looks on their faces made him stop after two steps. "What happened with Bella was an accident. We-"

"An _accident_?" Quil said, and laughed bitterly. "Dude, four civilians were torn to pieces. That's not an accident. That's a murder spree. Get real!"

"We got it under control, now," Jasper said, being the quicker draw, which wasn't too hard, as Jacob was clearly lost for words. "There's no need for more people to pay the price. Think about it: you attack us, we defend ourselves. We die, you die. If you defeat us, our friends will find out, come here, and kill you all. When everybody's dead, will justice be served, then?"

Sam shot him the blackest look Leah had ever seen him sport. "You should've thought about that before you people killed Charlie Swan's daughter and allowed the monster that she became to eat four human beings."

"Sam, I'd be the last one to object, and you know that I agree with you," Leah made herself speak up. As all eyes were on her, adrenaline spiked through her blood, but she let nothing show. Her voice was firm and clear. "I have to agree with Jasper, though, too, as much as I hate it: who will profit from a war? No-one. There'll be nothing but more gratuitous death all around. None of us want that."

"We have Bella under control, now," Edward said. "She will never harm another human being."

"Even if that's true, which you can't guarantee, you broke the treaty one too many times," Sam said, not even looking at Edward, but facing Jacob. "I'm willing to grant you, your pack, and your imprint amnesty, Jacob. You can re-join my pack or just leave this place to never come back. The vampires though will all be dealt with the way we should've dealt with them when they killed Charlie's daughter."

"Charlie's daughter _isn't dead_ ," Jacob snapped. "She's very much alive, and my Nessie needs her."

Leah flinched at his choice of words and didn't even try to hide it.

"Charlie would beg to differ," Sam said, trembling slightly again. "I went to the funeral in Jacksonville. We all did. It sickened me to be a part of that farce, but I did it anyway out of respect for him, and because he needs to be kept away from all this madness. He still hasn't returned from his leave of absence. _He's fucking heartbroken, Jacob! Do you even care? Huh? Do you?_ " He practically screamed this. His body shook so violently, Jacob retreated to Leah's side in a flash. Embry touched Sam's arm, though, and Sam managed to regain control over his fury. He spat on the earth. "You don't give a _shit_ about Charlie. You don't give a shit about your _pack_ , forcing Leah of all people to play watchdog to _leeches_. She's your responsibility, goddamn it, and you drag her into your messes, force her to do vampire bidding? Screw you for that!"

Leah couldn't find it in her heart to disagree, sadly, but she did have to object on one point: "I joined him voluntarily, you know."

Sam looked at her, and his expression was…pained. Regretful. Fond. God, it was almost too much for her to bear. "No, I forced your hand. It was my treatment of your sorrow that made you run. This one's one me."

"My actions are my own, Sam, I-"

"Even if, you never signed up for _this_. I know you, Leah. You hate vampires. You of all people know what damage they can cause purely by existing. You'd never help them if you had a choice," Sam said, and glared at Jacob again. "You drag Leah and little Seth into your bullshit, and you condemn them to die? What a great fucking leader you are, you clueless little _boy!_ "

"You're _trying_ to pick a fight," Jacob said, shaking his head in what could only be interpreted as disgust. "Don't do this, Sam. I don't want to fight you, but never mind Leah: if _you_ force _my_ hand, I will _end_ you."

"You'll stand with them? Really?" Sam snorted dry, incredulous laughter, and motioned at Edward and Jasper with a quick jerk of his chin. "I give you a clean way out, you and your people, and you stand with them? You'd murder your brothers and sisters, you'd condemn Leah and Seth to die, and you'd do this for _them_? For these undead pieces of garbage? _Are you out of your mind_?"

"Hey, I resent that," Jasper cut in, smiling at Sam, ignoring his fury. "I may be undead, but garbage? Not so much. It takes an effort, looking good like this. Also, stop talking about your ex-girlfriend like her life's only determined by the menfolk. I don't think she likes that. Between you and me, I believe Miss Clearwater is a feminist."

Leah raised her eyebrows at him. Was this guy unable to take anything seriously anymore? Not that he didn't have a point, but still. He was having fun. He _wanted_ a fight. She'd never seen him this good-natured before. He really was looking forward to some light-hearted carnage, wasn't he? Yup, that was what it looked like to Leah, at least. The mind boggled.

Edward gave him a significant look. " _Really_?"

" _Shut up!_ " Sam made a face and focussed on Jacob again. "You can't be serious, Jacob. _We_ are your people. They are our enemies. Do _not_ choose them over us. I'm warning you."

"I'll do what I have to," Jacob returned, jaw set, shoulders tensed, fists clenched. "We won't attack you. If you choose to attack us, whatever blood gets spilled will be on your hands. It'll all be on you."

"We won't run, either," Edward said, looking at Sam as if the mere sight of him was sickening. "We won't let you chase us from our home."

"It was our home, first, this land," Sam said, calm and cold now, sparing Edward only the briefest of looks. "You have three days to change your mind, and if you won't stop defending these abominations, at least send Leah and Seth back where they belong. You can throw your life away for the sake of vampires, but don't make them do it."

"My mind won't change," Jacob said, glowering, "and if you get anywhere near Nessie, I will rip your fucking head off, do you understand me?"

"We won't touch your imprint, but the rest of you are fair game," Sam said, turned around, and started stomping away again, followed closely by Quil and Embry. "You have seventy-two hours, starting now. I suggest you use them to kick-start your brain. You seem to be needing it." With that, the three wolves disappeared behind the line of trees, leaving the Cullen party looking after them in stunned silence.

"So," Jasper said, after a while, and shrugged, "that went well."

"You didn't exactly help," Edward said, shaking his head. "What's wrong with you? Are you actually having fun? Do you want a war? This went badly, and that's a very awful thing."

"No kidding, genius," Jacob muttered, slapping his hands to his face.

"It went as expected," Leah said, crossed her arms, and started heading back toward the road. "Situation normal, all fucked up."

* * *

 **3** **Travelling to a sunny, warm place was always a joy, but a vampire had to take precautions and keep from drawing too much human attention**. Therefore, as Demetri flew from Seattle to Jacksonville (and kudos to the team of hackers and forgers who managed to concoct documentation for him that didn't betray his true origins or home), he took care not to expose any of his skin to the sunshine coming in through the aeroplane windows. It wasn't as hard as some liked to think – long sleeves, sunglasses, make-up, and that was it. It wasn't like he could sweat the foundation off. If the sunshine got really bright, he added a hat. During winter, a scarf pulled up almost to his nose and gloves did the trick. Yes, this could all fail, but seriously, seeing someone sparkle a little wasn't very impressive at all to humans. People might think that he was a douche, but that he was a supernatural creature? Not bloody likely.

Other things would surely give you away, though, such as moving too quickly, not blinking, not breathing, standing too still, getting so angry that the fangs popped out, returning to the same places to live there within the span of one or two generations and therefore risking people noticing that you weren't getting any older, staying out in the open in any place for too long. That was how a vampire gave him- or herself away, not by sparkling. Nobody cared about that. No, drawing attention by flaunting the sparkle wasn't smart by anyone's standards, but it wasn't what would bring the law on a wayward vampire's head – not by a long shot.

It was around twenty degrees Celsius in Jacksonville, and a little cloudy. Still, this was a thousand times sunnier than Seattle had been for the past three months, and Demetri was so, so glad of it. It made him homesick, too, but there was no time for this kind of gloomy rumination. No, there was no time for sadness, wistfulness, nostalgia, or anything even remotely emo.

The drive to Jacksonville's Oceanway neighbourhood was calm and relaxed. He found the cute, freshly painted white bungalow easily; there was even a parking space right in front of its driveway. Excellent! He checked his face in the rear-view mirror, found everything in order, got out of the car, slowly walked up the gravelly path to the front door, and knocked. Little later, the door was opened just a little, and a woman's face peered out.

"Yes?" The resemblance to Bella Swan was striking, even if this woman was conventionally prettier. She had the same brown hair, the same almond shape to her eyes (even though the woman's were blue where Bella's had been dark), the same plumper upper lip, the same hollow cheeks. She couldn't be forty, yet, and despite her tired and haggard appearance, he was pretty sure that usually, she didn't look it.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am. My name is Matt Darcy. I called Charles Swan about my fiancée, Irina Horváthová," he said, giving the woman – Renée Dwyer, that was her name – a pained little smile. "This was the address he gave me."

Renée's eyes went wide. She blanched. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry." She opened the door and stepped aside, motioning into the house. "Please, come in. Charlie's inside. He's, uh…he's my ex-husband."

"Oh. Well, thank you so much," he said, and followed the invitation. The house had been freshly painted from the inside, too, and the smell of it was pervasive and vaguely unpleasant, but it didn't really mask the alluring scent of living blood that the two humans present gave off. Luckily, he had not only fed the night before, but he also had learned to control himself pretty well over the many centuries of his life. "You have a lovely home, Misses…"

"Dwyer, but call me Renée," she said, gave him a very friendly, open smile, and led the way. "Follow me, please. Can I offer you anything? Water? Coffee? Something stronger?"

"No, thank you. You're very kind." He followed her whilst noticing his surroundings well. It really was a charming home – simple, sparsely furnished, but decorated with love. On the walls hung multiple framed pictures displaying many beloved family memories, most of them including Bella. He couldn't help but think of his own mother, who hadn't even had time to miss him after his death. She was long gone, now, dead and burned and vanished from this Earth.

The living room contained a big, red couch, two armchairs, a small table, a flat-screen TV, some bookshelves, and a fireplace at the corner. The walls were beige and, like the corridor, displayed a number of framed photographs. It was nice; the entire house had a good feel to it, like people who loved each other spent happy hours in these rooms.

On one of the armchairs sat a man, thin and tired and hunched over, pretending to watch some sitcom, but obviously not paying any attention to it at all. His short-ish hair was unkempt and greasy, his moustache a mess, his cheeks covered in dark stubble. His skin had a yellowish, sickly tinge to it.

"Charlie, this is the young man who called you, Matt," Renée said, trying and failing to sound cheerful. Demetri couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the poor young thing. "About Bella's friend Irina?"

Charlie Swan raised his head. His brown eyes were bloodshot. "Oh," he said, scrambled for the remote, turned the TV off, and made an effort to get to his feet. "Of course. Mister Darcy."

"Call me Matt, please," Demetri said, nodded at Renée, stepped up to Charlie, shook his hand, and took the offered seat on the couch. Renée sat down next to him.

"So…your fiancée got that fucked-up disease too, huh?" Charlie said, dropped himself on his armchair again, and grimaced. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Demetri said, smiling a little. "As for your question, yes: Irina was in Rio de Janeiro at the same time as your daughter, and they decided to meet up. She was supposed to fly back to London two days later. Well" – He ran his thin fingers through his hair and chuckled humourlessly – "you already know how that one turned out."

"Oh yeah," Charlie said, scratched his stubble, and squinted at Demetri. "On the phone, you said something about the Cullens, about how their story doesn't make sense. Care to elaborate?"

He'd actually made it all up on the fly, more or less. Finding out that Bella had disappeared had been easy, as had been phoning a number of her former classmates and stitching together a version of likely events. Then, he'd got a hold of the obituary, and the truth had to be this: the Cullens had turned Bella and fed her parents a sob story about a slowly killing disease that had claimed Bella's life little over three months ago. Placing all his bets on this one shot, Demetri had called Charlie and asked what he knew exactly about this disease, since his fiancée had caught the same thing and had vanished off the face of the Earth, as well.

Turned out the bet was well-placed.

"I called them when I couldn't reach Irina. Edward's father, Carlisle, confirmed to me that his son and his daughter-in-law had met up with Irina, and that Irina had contracted the same disease. He told me that both Irina and Isabella were in Switzerland in some clinic," Demetri said, shaking his head, looking down at his hands in his lap. Thank goodness he wasn't a clueless new-born anymore, or he'd never get the right amount of grief and frustration out. "I tried calling those people, but they'd never heard of Irina. I later tried the same thing at the CDC, in Atlanta. They told me that not only had they never heard of my fiancée, they don't even treat any patients at their headquarters, either." Sadly, he couldn't get his eyes to be bloodshot or teary, but one couldn't have everything. "I called the Cullen household again, but was lied to over and over. Their story is so full of holes, it's not even there, anymore."

"Good God," Renée whispered, sniffling. "Charlie, you were right."

Charlie's features crumpled in pain. He raised his fist to his lips, discreetly cleared his throat, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I might be a grieving father," he finally said, his voice trembling slightly, "but I'm not an idiot. Those people are hiding something. I can't reach my dying child for over a month, and then all I get is an urn of ashes that can't even get examined? Something's terribly wrong. Something awful happened, and the Cullens are lying about it. You just confirmed that."

"So what do we do now?" Renée said.

"I don't know what we can do," Charlie said, and sighed. "My head's so foggy; I have to be able to think straight first, before I can think strategy."

"I'll tell you what," Demetri said, locking eyes with him, "calling them isn't working, and trying to go confront them directly hasn't worked for me, at least."

"Me, neither. Every time I tried, they intercepted me long before I could get to the house itself. It's like those bastards have a sixth sense, or something," Charlie said, and scratched his neck. "I tried convincing Sue – that is Sue Clearwater, who lives in the Quileute reservation of La Push – to talk to them, but none of the La Push people will go anywhere near that place. It's all so weird."

"Well, I think they might change their mind if they find out that not just your daughter's mystery is something only the Cullen family can solve, but my fiancée's, too," Demetri said, smiling grimly at Charlie, then Renée. "I understand that one of Isabella's friends, a resident of La Push, got sick not so long ago, as well."

"Yes, Jacob Black, but…" Charlie scratched his neck and frowned. "He got better. You think that has something to do with what happened to Bella? You think it might've been the same thing? I mean, everyone was pretty tight-lipped about that, and the circumstances _were_ strange. Do you think that there's an actual connection, or are we all just getting paranoid?" He chuckled awkwardly.

"I don't think you're paranoid at all," Demetri said, meaning it. "I tried doing some layman's research on the Cullens, and I couldn't find anything about them on the internet that was much older than a year. It's like they didn't even exist before moving to Forks."

"Same here, and I'm no layman," Charlie said, and snorted dry laughter. "I thought I was paranoid to want to investigate such pillars of our community, and when I didn't want to accept the news of Bella's…of what happened to Bella, I knew I needed to clear my head before I did anything else. Now I know that my gut feeling was correct: these people are suspicious. They're hiding something, and they're definitely lying about my daughter and your fiancée."

"It couldn't hurt to just go to La Push and confront Jacob's dad directly, before we do anything else," Renée said. Both men looked at her, and she shrugged. "If Edward's family is lying and the Blacks know something, we should definitely talk to them face to face before alerting the FBI or whatever."

"I agree," Demetri said, focussing on Charlie again. "All I want is to find out what happened to Irina. I'm sure you feel the same way about your little girl."

Charlie pressed his lips together, drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils, and nodded. "All right," he finally said. "I don't know how smart this is, but anything is better than sitting around doing _nothing_. We'll go to La Push, talk to Billy, find out what we can." He looked into Demetri's eyes, his expression even. "And God help the Cullens if they've hurt my daughter."

* * *

 **4** **A few hours later, after giving Renée's husband the heads-up and making some basic preparations, the three of them drove to the airport.** Yes, sure, involving humans was unfortunate, because they would probably have to die once they'd served their purpose, but there was no other way. It was regrettable, because Charlie and Renée seemed like decent people, but at least they would die for a good cause, if die they must.

It wasn't just something fishy that was going on with the Cullen coven. No, they'd done something bad, something big, something that would top the previous times they had broken the law. It was Demetri's duty to find out what was going on, to help Irina if she still could be helped (and she was sort of his responsibility, given the fact that she'd agreed to be his asset), and to see that justice was served.

Nothing else counted. It was a pity that these humans would probably have to pay the ultimate price, but sometimes, collateral damage could not be avoided. He would find out what was going on, and when he did, he would take out that threat to his family without mercy. It was the law. It was the right thing to do. It was what he wanted.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** **Just as a little heads-up, this chapter features some interaction between Jacob and Renesmee that is a little creepy - not because he pervs on her, because he really doesn't, but because she behaves the way she's been behaving throughout this entire story. She wants an army of drones and he's a part of that. ALL SHALL LOVE HER AND DESPAIR! Brace yourselves, because it isn't going to be pretty.**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

 **1** **Ever since Renesmee had been born, the mornings at the Cullen household went the same way:** she woke up, wanted blood, wanted to face-touch everyone and show them not only what she'd dreamed about, but also individual visions that were meant only for the recipient to see – well, the recipient and Wardo, since Nessie didn't exactly try to hide her superficial thoughts from him. She always showed Jacob the same things: visions of her as a grown-up, holding his hands, smiling, telling him that she loved him.

Oh, yes, Nessie had always had an adult mind. That stupid little 'I was born ready' saying? Yeah, in her case, it was actually true. The problem was, he had no idea if she knew how tormenting these visions were, how wrong it felt to think of her as someone who would once be a grown woman, who would once be _his_. It wasn't like she was a sadist, or anything. No, that was Creepula's domain. He was sadistic as all hell and, these days, didn't even bother pretending otherwise, anymore. Jacob had never seen anyone so much at ease at the prospect of an all-out, game-changing war with a clan of super-powered werewolves.

No, Nessie was not a sadist. She couldn't be. She was too precious, too sweet, too good, too perfect. She was too insecure, too. All she wanted was love and devotion. That was certainly not a crime. Every morning, when she woke up, Jacob brought her a blood-bag. She'd smile at him, and everything else just faded, somehow, became grey and blurred and unimportant. He'd sit down by her side, let her touch his face, see what she wanted him to see, listen to the music of her little voice as she talked. She was a little girl, and he loved her like a daughter, or a little sister. He didn't want to see her being all eager to grow up, to become his girlfriend, but since this was all she showed him, there was no escaping those terrible, disturbing, awful thoughts. In a sense, it felt as if she were just as imprinted on him as he was on her.

 _My Jacob_ , she called him in these visions. _Mine. Forever_.

 _Forever_ , he couldn't help thinking, feeling poisoned and unclean for it.

God. This was so, so fucked up.

The first thing he did, after their little party returned from the cluster-fuck that had been the meeting with Sam, was grab a blood-bag out of the fridge and carry it up to Nessie's room. She'd be waking up right about now; it was always the same every single morning.

As he entered the room, he saw that Queen Bitch was sitting by Nessie's side, grinning like a loon, and that Nessie had her dainty little hand on the leech's face. "Good morning," he said.

"Right on time," Queen Bitch said tartly, since that was the only way the self-important cow knew how to address anyone, especially a lowly werewolf.

Nessie's face lit up in the sweetest, most enchanting smile. It was as if she were growing more perfect every day. "Jake! Come here, I'm thirsty."

Sighing inwardly, he did, taking up Barbie's former spot, as she vampire-flashed to the other side of the bed. Well, there was no love lost between her and any of the wolves, least of all Jacob. "Here you go, honey," he said, and handed Nessie the bag. "I hope Auntie Rosie here hasn't spent the entire night drooling on you again."

"Shut up, mutt," Barbie spat.

"Make me," he replied, smiling wryly, and giving her the finger.

"Don't fight," Nessie said, after draining the bag dry. She touched Jacob's fingers and reached out to Barbie, who hurried to sit down and take the offered hand. "We are all one big family. I need you to be friends."

"Of course, angel," Barbie said, simpering, but cast Jacob a last little black look before picking up the empty blood-bag and darting to her feet again. "I'll go prepare your bath, Nessie, dear. Be right back!" With that, she was gone. Finally.

Nessie focussed all of her attention on Jacob, and Jacob…well. All anger and resentment and fear and worry, it just all wheezed out of him like air out of a balloon, like ash out of an urn. His shoulders slumped. He couldn't fight the warm smile that spread across his face. Everything that had been clogging up his brain – the impending danger, the frictions with Leah, his complicated feelings toward Bella, his guilt over just glossing over what she'd done – it all became colourless, shapeless, meaningless. What mattered was that Nessie was happy, that she lived, that she thrived, that she got all that she ever wanted.

She wanted him by her side forever. He would do everything in his power to make that happen.

"Why does my momma not see?" she asked now, her voice small and insecure.

His heart clenched. The poor girl. All she wanted was to be loved. That was only natural. "It's her special ability, honey," he said, wanting to run his fingers through her hair, remembering her earlier thoughts of their future relationship, and only just refraining from it. He was so squicked out. "Mind-powers don't work on her, only physical ones. She's not blocking you out on purpose. She can't help it."

Nessie pouted, and it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. Christ. Oh, God. "But I want her to _see_! How can she love me if she doesn't _see_?"

"Don't be silly, sweetheart. Of course she loves you. You're her baby. There's no-one who matters more in the entire universe – not ever. You hear me?"

" _Promise me!_ "

"I promise. I swear." He sighed, scratched his neck. Man, he was tired, and his neck was aching from the sitting position he'd slept in all night.

"Will the bad men try to hurt me?"

Just the mere thought of that, the tiniest hint of the possibility had cold acid slosh in his stomach. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His throat went dry. He made himself smile again, but it felt weird and phony. "No, baby. No-one will try to hurt you."

"But they want to hurt you and the others," she said, frowning. "I heard you all talking."

"Nessie, honey…"

"If you all die, who will take care of me? Who will love me? _You can't die! You have to live! I need you!_ "

"Baby, calm down," he said, and before he knew it, he'd scooped her into his arms. No, he didn't think of her as someone who'd once be his girlfriend. She was only a child (adult mind that knew that saw that understood) and she needed to be protected at all costs. "I'll do whatever I can to not let that happen, okay? Everything and anything."

She leaned her head against his chest and grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt. "You need to kill them, Jake. Kill the bad men. Kill them all."

Feeling as heavy as the entire planet, he leaned his cheek against the top of her head and breathed in the sweet, flowery fragrance of her skin. "I will," he heard himself saying. Part of him started to scream in protest, but it was a faint voice at the back of his mind that was easily silenced. "I'll kill them all."

"And the others, Momma and her kind, they need to drink humans," she whispered.

Jacob's stomach lurched. "No, Nessie, I can't allow-"

"Uncle Jasper says that's the only way to make sure we win a fight against so many bad men," she went on, unimpressed. "You have to tell them to come here and listen to me. I'll make them see. I'll make it so they can't say no. They have to do it, Jake. They have to. You all need to live. I need you to live for me, _do you understand?_ What would I do without you? I _need_ you. I need you all, but you the most. They have to be strong and protect you, so you can be there for me."

As gently as he could, he peeled her out of the embrace, took her by her delicate shoulders, and looked into her huge, dark-brown eyes. "Honey, these are innocent people we're talking about, here. We can't kill innocent people just so we'll win. What kind of a victory would that be? We'd be monsters."

"Surviving is not a crime," she said, obstinate. The frown melted away from her face, and she beamed at him, reached out, touched his face.

He saw it: Nessie, in an adult, flawless body, beautiful and radiant, her skin shining faintly in the sunlight. She was smiling, laughing, beckoning to him. She had flowers in her hair.

She was wearing a wedding gown as she approached him, cupped his face, kissed him.

 _I love you_ , she told him in her perfect angel's voice. _Love me. Protect me._ _Make this a reality_.

He drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils. _No!_ This was so wrong! "Please, don't. Just…don't. I can't. I _can't_."

"Don't you want to make me happy?" she said, her voice a child's but her tone very much not so. "How can I be happy if you die? I need you. I _love_ you. You're my Jacob. You can't leave me. _Please don't leave me!_ "

Pressing his lips together and closing his eyes, he shook his head. This wasn't fair. How could she ask something like this of him? He couldn't refuse her. He couldn't not do everything in his power to make sure that the most precious being in the history of creation was protected and loved. She knew this, too. Of course she knew this. Not that he blamed her – she wanted to live. She wanted him to live. All was fair in love and war, wasn't it? Damn it.

"I'll do it," he heard himself saying, the words forcing their way out of his mouth despite his mind's protests. "I'll do whatever I have to, and so will everyone else."

" _Promise me_."

He sighed, opened his eyes again, didn't even try to fight it anymore. "I promise."

She returned his expression, took his big hand into both her little ones, and raised it to her porcelain-doll's face. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

 **2** **Because she'd consumed all that human blood barely twenty-four hours ago, Bella's senses had adjusted themselves with miraculous speed**. All the way from Edward's (and hers, she guessed) bedroom, she could hear him and Jasper giving everyone the bad news downstairs. She could hear Jacob, Renesmee, and Rosalie in the latter's room down the hall, too. In fact, she could follow both conversations simultaneously without having the world collapse into confusion. That was weird, but true all the same.

She'd spent the night looking at the books in Edward's shelves: Proust, Nietzsche, Kant, Sartre, Aristotle, Cicero. Dawn broke when she realised that none of these books told her who he was at all. What did he actually like? Did he like anything? Living-blood-powered senses and memories or no, she had to admit that she had absolutely no idea. She didn't know the first thing about this person she was married to, this man who had fathered her child.

This made another disconcerting question arise: what did _she_ like? Apart from pretentiously waving about the non-romance that was _Wuthering Heights_ (a book about people destroying themselves and each other out of pride and hate, huh? Fitting), did she ever read anything purely for pleasure? There'd been Renée's romance novels, but Bella had always looked down on her mom's literary preferences for some reason.

What movies did she like? What music did the listen to? What kind of pop culture references did she like to weave into her speech? Had she even done that, at some point? Had she even _had_ a life outside of worshipping Edward and craving immortality?

The truth was, Bella couldn't remember a single thing that she'd loved as a human. The memories were blurred and fragmented and out of reach of her conscious mind. Did she even have an _un_ conscious mind, anymore? She had no idea. This was so depressing.

From downstairs, following the revelation that Sam Uley would come to kill them all in three days, a heated and somewhat desperate discussion wafted up to Bella's ears.

"We have three days until they attack." That was Edward.

"Oh, my God, are we actually gonna have to fight? Can't you go talk to Sam, again? He's just angry, but he's a sensible young man. I know we can reason with him and his people!"

"Calm down, Esme; it'll be okay."

"How will it be okay, honey? We can't defeat all those wolves, we-"

"We can if we feed on humans – lots of them. As many as we can stomach."

" _Are you fucking kidding me?_ "

"Leah, please-"

"Shove it up the rear, Clyde. Nobody cares what you think. As for you, Creepula, what the fuck?"

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, Miss Clearwater. You heard your ex-boyfriend. Either we stock up, or we all die. It's as simple as that. If you don't like it, you can crawl back to him…if your current master lets you, that is."

"Screw you with a blowtorch, you nasty little fucker."

"Jasper, it is out of the question that we drink living human blood."

"Why? Because we'd lose our moral superiority? Who are we even trying to impress, Carlisle? Not that it'll matter once we're all dead."

"I'm not listening to any of this crap. _Go to hell, all of you blood-sucking ass-wipes!_ " The front door crashed shut with a bang.

"She'll calm down. In the meantime, we should all come to terms with one simple truth: either we drink human blood from the vein, and lots of it, or we're completely fucked."

"Jasper, please…"

"What, _Alice_? Please tell me the alternative, coz I don't see it. We're outnumbered and outgunned, even if we call Tanya and Kate for help, which I don't see happening due to the Renesmee situation."

"We can't kill humans, and that's final."

"You didn't mind other people doing it when you were staying in Volterra. You didn't mind it when Edward here had his experimental phase in the Prohibition Era, either."

"Shut your mouth."

"Or what, dear brother? You'll hate-glare me to death? Wake up. The mess has been made. Now, do you people want to live or do you want to _die_?"

As Bella looked out at the forest through the glass wall, she wished she could have a heavy heart. This was all her fault, and she couldn't even make herself feel physically ill for it. How pathetic. Maybe if she gave herself up to Sam and his pack, they'd leave the others alone? No, they wouldn't, and she knew it. She'd try, though. She had to do _something_ to make this right, even if it meant ceasing to exist. It wasn't as if she hadn't died once, already.

She listened to Renesmee making Jacob promise that he'd do whatever it took to keep breathing. Adult mind or no, no-one should possess such terrible power over another living being, and any person who did would be tempted to abuse that power. Bella didn't even blame her daughter for acting like this. Renesmee wanted to live. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to be the centre of her family's universe. That was something Bella could sympathise with for very obvious reasons.

"Edward, you should go explain what happened to your wife."

A little silence followed.

"No, Carlisle. She told me that she needs some space." He sounded bitter. "Jasper, you're her new best friend, aren't you? Why don't you do it?"

"Fine by me. I have zero qualms about looking someone in the eye and telling them the truth."

"That's not the only thing you have zero qualms about, it turns out – and here I was, thinking you'd actually seen the error of your ways. I guess I was mistaken."

There was low laughter. "Edward, you can't make me angry. Stop trying to antagonise everyone. It's annoying, and I'm not the only one who is fed up with your attitude."

That's when Bella heard him lightly jogging up the stairs. She didn't turn around when he came into the room. "I should go to La Push and just let them execute me," she said quietly. "Maybe they'll leave you alone, then. I can't let you all paint giant targets on your backs by killing even more human beings and therefore exposing yourselves to Sam's wrath. It's all my fault, and I should be the one to suffer the consequences."

"Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you?" Jasper said, scoffing derisively. "It would let you off the hook, and you could be the selfless martyr who sacrificed herself for the greater good, too. I applaud your courage and your strength of character, Saint Isabella." He clapped very slowly – once, twice, three times.

Bella spun around to him, glowering. " _Don't make fun of me!_ "

He raised his eyebrows at her, a thoroughly amused expression on his face. "Then stop whining. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop making it all about yourself."

"I'm not, I-"

" _Yes, you are_ ," he said sharply, and a split second later, he was right in front of her, making her recoil against the glass wall. "All this time, it's nothing but 'oh, I'm such a terrible person! I'm a monster! You should kill me! I should be dead'! I can't take any more of this whiny, emo _nonsense_! Well, how about you own up to your fuck-up, do what everybody else does, and just learn to live with it? Rolling over and giving up is easy. Surviving and moving on is hard work. Why don't you fight for once, instead of whingeing like a baby?"

For a moment, she just stared at him, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, paralysed. Then, she wished she could cry. Out of force of habit, she heaved a sigh, looked up at the ceiling, and shrugged, hugging her arms to herself. "I don't know how to do that."

"That's why it's called an effort. If it came easy to you, it wouldn't be a fight," he said, backing off a little – only a little. "Did you hear what your daughter and her lapdog talked about?"

She frowned at him. "Don't talk like this about Jacob or any of the wolves."

He waved off. "Fine. Just answer my question." When she nodded, so did he. "She's right, you know. We got a right to live, and if the wolves attack us, we need to be ready for them. We can't win against them like this." He pointed at his yellow eyes.

"But back when Victoria's new-borns attacked-"

"We had the wolves on our side, and the new-borns were very unprepared. Also, vampires and humans are pretty much helpless against my power, but I can't control or even slow down that many wolves at once. It'll help, certainly, but it won't be enough." A mischievous little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Not when I'm weak like this. You thought I was impressive then? You think my ability is overwhelming now? You should see me, feel me at my best."

"This is all too much," she said, hiding her face in her hands, choosing to ignore the innuendo. "Do we even deserve to live – I mean, to _exist_ – if we murder innocent people?" When she felt his fingers close around hers and pull her hands from her face, she didn't resist. His skin was pleasant to the touch. The human blood was doing a real number on her, making her feel good inside this alien monstrosity.

"Bella," he said, staring straight into her eyes, unblinking, as if willing her to finally get it through her thick skull, " _they're not people_. They're cattle. They're our prey. Stop being so sentimental. You're a vampire now. Act like one."

"But-"

"Do you want to live or do you want to die? It's a simple question that has a simple answer to it."

Wretched, miserable, she looked into his eyes and said, "I want to live," in a small, toneless voice.

The hint of a smile returned to his face. "Good," he said, gave her hands a little squeeze, and let them go. "Now, that's step one taken care of: denial's gone. Step two would be actually acknowledging that we need to refuel properly. You might be the strongest of us physically, at the moment, but you don't know the first thing about fighting. With only us slow and stupid morons as backup, you won't last a minute against a mob of angry dogs."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

His thin, fair eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. "But you're okay with all of us biting it in your name?"

She bristled. "Of _course_ not!"

"Well, then, get with the times. The fight's coming, whether we whine about it or not. We can only win if we feed the way we were meant to. Yes, humans will die, but try to see it as a 'eggs broken for an omelette' kind of deal. Makes it easier."

Unbidden (beloved precious painful) memories of her mom and dad flashed before her mind's eye. She bit her lower lip and shook her head. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Bella…"

"No, _you don't understand_ ," she said sharply, making him snap to attention. "I don't know if I can do this, because if I kill again, I don't believe I'll ever be strong enough to stop. I'm not afraid of the guilt, Jasper. I'm afraid that there won't be any, that the overwhelming satisfaction of the kill will become my greatest addiction. I'll be lost, and all that'll be left will be a monster."

A few seconds ticked by, during which he just observed her calmly, his face betraying no emotion at all. Then, there was a gleam in his eyes, and a very, very subtle expression of satisfaction started spreading across his features. It was a little scary, but it was also – and she had no idea why this thought even crossed her weird, foreign mind – a thing of fascinating, thoroughly inhuman beauty.

"Well," he whispered, "wouldn't that be something glorious to behold."

At that precise moment, there was a knock on the door. Jasper stepped aside, not before giving Bella another weird little smirk, and Bella almost stupidly cleared her throat in her boggled state of mind. The intruder was Jacob, who observed the scene with obvious wariness written all over his face and posture. Bella breathed in and wrinkled her nose. What the hell was that strange smell? Wet dog? It was _dreadful_.

Jasper chuckled and Jacob rolled his eyes.

"Great," the latter said, "not you, too." Before Bella could stammer an apology, he waved off. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. Look, Nessie wants to talk to everyone. You can come along, too, Bella."

"I feel so included," she muttered sourly, but followed both Jacob and Jasper outside and down the hall. In her mind, there was no doubt that they would end up agreeing with Renesmee's demands the moment she touched their faces and filled their minds with whatever she wanted them to see.

* * *

 **3** **From the moment sweet little Nessie had touched Irina's hand for the first time, Irina found herself incapable of saying no to her**. It wasn't quite as bad as what was going on with the wolf alpha, or with Rosalie, but it was bad enough. She'd wanted to call…her friend her friend her friend no name he had no name no thinking about his name they were listening; she _couldn't_. She'd wanted to call her sisters, too, with the same result. Nessie didn't want anyone who might not love her, who might not let her touch them, to come into the fold. Therefore, Irina couldn't alert anyone. It sounded ridiculous when one put it into words, but things were the way they were.

Now, as the little girl touched Irina's face, Irina's mind was filled with images of blood and death and glorious satisfaction, of strength and power and speed and intelligence and invincibility. She saw herself killing, drinking, quenching that never-ceasing burn in her throat. She all but tasted the blood, felt its power running through her body, invigorating it, honing her senses, boosting her reflexes, amplifying her emotions (her memory her love her original love Lyubomir oh her sweet love he would live in her mind forever all she had to do was drink be strong be _good_ ). As she stepped away from the child, stunned, she knew that this was the right thing to do; they had to feed properly. They had to eradicate those terrible, hateful creatures who wanted to attack them. They had to kill them all. They had to kill all the bad men. They had to keep Renesmee safe.

Irina's throat was parched and blistering with pain and thirst. The mere thought of chomping down on another goddamn deer, on another black bear, on (how undignified) a dog…it was too disgusting, too revolting even to contemplate. She had to drink human blood. She had to drink it from the vein. Desperate, defeated, anguished, she turned around to face Bella, who was watching the same thing happening to all her companions with wide eyes.

"Bella," she said, and Bella's head snapped to the side, in her direction, "you have to be strong, now. You have to step up and be strong for all of us. We need you to be strong." She just hoped to God that Bella was smart enough to understand what those words actually meant.

* * *

 **4** **Irina stumbled out of that room, down the staircase, and out into the front yard.** She breathed in the fresh forest air, tried to distract herself from her thirst, tried to think clearly. It was hard. It was so, so hard. Eyes closed, she stood on the lawn, head spinning, throat burning, her entire body aching, and her thoughts repeating themselves over and over and over: _I have to feed I have to be strong I have to protect the child I have to love the child I have to feed I have to-_

"Are you gonna faint? Coz I'm not carrying you inside."

Snapping out of it, Irina shook her head and turned abruptly to the source of the voice, finding herself face to face with Leah Clearwater, who was squinting with her with unmitigated distrust. "No, no. I can't faint."

"Well, you never know," Leah said, jutting her chin forward, crossing her arms below her chest. There was a hard line to her full lips, and an angry spark in her dark eyes. "You look like you're about to barf."

"I am, in a sense," Irina said, and started massaging her throat. "It's hard to think clearly."

"Shouldn't have let the spawn touch you."

"No, I shouldn't." Irina couldn't even find it in herself to get mad. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wish I was like Bella."

Leah just blinked at her twice, then snorted dry laughter. "I never thought _I'd_ say this, but man, do I feel sorry for you right now."

Irina gave her a weak, pained little smile. "We all have our cross to carry," she said, and started fidgeting with her hair. It wasn't as if she felt compelled to do this, but non-vampires found it unsettling when someone just stood there like a statue. "You, too. I know you wouldn't abandon your brother even if Jacob gave you the choice. I'm sorry about what Jasper said in there."

Leah waved off. "Standard fair for that creep. He was just trying to rile me up."

"He's a true vampire."

Squinting with suspicion at Irina again, Leah said, "Is that a compliment or an insult? Because you sound kind of impressed."

"It's a fact," Irina replied, shrugging. "Our sense of morality shifts drastically when we turn. It's very hard to balance what we feel against what we remember being right and wrong. All he's doing is embracing what he is, not even trying to achieve balance."

"You manage fine enough."

Irina laughed softly. "Well, I've failed badly in the past, but I try." She dug her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone, looking down at it thoughtfully. "I haven't spoken to my sisters ever since I got here. I've got a good friend of mine waiting for a sign of life, too, but I can't call him. I really want to call him, to tell him I'm… _fine_ , but I can't."

Leah snorted derisively. "Re-name-me doesn't want anyone to call outsiders, right?"

"Precisely," Irina said, and nodded.

A minute or so of silence went by, during which both women just stood there brooding in weird camaraderie. Finally, Leah whispered, "This friend…why is it so important that he hear from you?"

Irina's eyes darted up to meet Leah's. Was…wait, did Leah suspect that Irina wanted to call the authorities for help? Maybe she just thought anyone should be told to bring in the cavalry – anyone, no matter who, no matter what supernatural species. Picturing scenes of the most disgusting things she could come up with to keep Edward out of her head, since she had to think English now, she stepped so close to Leah that they were almost touching, and whispered, hardly doing more than just moving her lips, "He would bring the fires of hell down on the child."

Even though Leah's tension at being this close to a vampire was palpable, she stood her ground, and replied, "That'd be one less problem for us. How fast can he be here?"

"I don't know, but I don't think he's far. I can't call him, and Bella is too undecided, yet. It's her _daughter_."

Leah's eyes flitted toward the house, and her expression hardened. "Give me your phone, quick." Irina did, and Leah slipped it into her own jeans' pocket. "Guy's name?"

"Demetri."

Backing off from Irina, Leah snapped at her, "For the last time, you stupid leech, _no!_ I will _not_ let that little freak touch me! _I don't care what you think!_ "

Irina heard and smelled the person this little show was meant for: Rosalie, who had just come out of the house. "But you'll understand if you _see_!"

"Get the _fuck_ away from me!" Leah scoffed again, glared at the direction of the house, and raised her middle finger. "What are you looking at, Barbie? You know what? You can all just jump up my ass! I'm gonna go and try to talk some sense into Sam!" Without waiting for a reply, she stomped away.

Unable to help herself, Irina whirled around and saw that Rosalie meant to follow, but was joined by Carlisle, who held her back.

"Let her go, child," he said, grave and solemn. "She has to try it. It won't help, but she has to." He focussed his attention on Irina. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Irina said, making herself smile. It wasn't even that hard. "I'm okay." She felt it, too. Yes, she might be hampered by her connection to Renesmee, but she wasn't helpless. She was not a victim. At least she'd managed to do _something_ useful, even if it would probably result in her death. If the child was killed, chances were that the ones she'd touched would not be cured, and if that was the case, the Volturi would have no other alternative but to eliminate them, too.

* * *

 **5** **Leah remained human as she ran as quickly and as far away from Castle New Money as she could.** Jacob and Seth were in wolf-form right now, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to overhear her thoughts. Chances were, they'd attack her. Dear Nessie wasn't her greatest fan as it was. If things went even further downhill, Leah now had no doubt that the spawn would demand she be taken down.

About half an hour later (and with the friendly help of a Forks native giving her a ride), she found herself smack in the middle of town, with no vamps or wolves within earshot. As calmly as she managed, and wondering if this desperate measure wasn't the stupidest thing she'd ever done, she ducked into a lane between two houses, pulled Alaska Blonde's phone out of her pocket, and called the only number labelled 'D'.

It rang three times.

" _Irina_."

"I'm afraid Irina is unavailable, so you'll have to make do with me," Leah said lowly, looking about herself and feeling stupid and paranoid. Silence answered her, and she had to give the leech props for just waiting to see what would happen and not giving away any intel, either. "You're Demetri?"

After another moment's silence, a hesitant, " _Yes, I am. What happened to my friend?_ " was said in perfect Queen's English. Oh, good – Evil Brit, the vampire. Wonderful.

"Don't worry about her; she's fine. She just can't call you," Leah said, and rubbed at her forehead with her free hand. All this conspiracy crap was giving her a headache, and it seemed a little pointless, what with their impending doom by werewolf justice and all that. "Look, I don't know about vamp protocol, but I'm guessing you're one of those government people who throw vampire babies into the fire, right?"

There was yet another little pause. It was weird that on the other end of the line, the guy didn't breathe. At length, he did, though, because he clearly needed oxygen to talk. " _What's your name, and what are you? Before you protest, no, I can't just give information away to anyone random – to someone obviously not human or vampire._ " He could hear that from her voice? Impressive.

Still, she couldn't resist the – admittedly childish – impulse to roll her eyes. "My name is Leah, and I'm not your concern. We got ourselves a situation on our hands with a half-vampire child that's eating everyone's minds and turning them into her drones. Irina can't call you because the kid won't let her." She blew out a sharp breath and closed her eyes for a spell. "We need help, even if it's from leeches…I mean, vampires."

" _You're one of the wolves_ ," he said, " _and the child is Isabella Swan's daughter_."

Her eyes flew open. Adrenaline shot icily through her veins. "How do you know that?" Was this another mind-reader? Great. Just what this melodrama needed.

" _I've just been told_ ," he said, using that toneless, impossible-to-interpret voice all of them spoke in when they didn't specifically try to emote. " _Where are you? I would very much like to speak with you in person. It's important_."

There was something in his voice that made her blood run cold and her throat constrict. It was probably just her instincts getting the better of her, but ignoring them would be dumb, which she tried very hard not to be on a daily basis. "I don't think so. Just…do something about that goddamn demon-spawn, and whatever you do, don't let her touch you."

" _Hm_ ," he made, after a moment. " _I can't do that without more information, and I'm willing to bet you won't provide me with what I need over the phone_."

She blew out a heavy breath. "I'm not gonna walk into a trap, thank you very much."

He deliberated on this for a moment. Finally, he said, " _You have a lovely home, Leah Clearwater – very lovely. Your people are not very accommodating, but I wasn't expecting a warm welcome, anyway. Don't worry, though; I'm not sensitive enough to take offense_."

The cold was replaced by waves of heat. Her whole body started trembling. "If you've done anything to hurt my people, I swear to God-"

" _Your people are fine. I spoke with some of them, and they very reluctantly shared some information with me about the current state of affairs_ ," he said, and chuckled. " _Then, they kicked me off their land. I'm staying with Charlie Swan and Renée Dwyer, Bella's parents_."

Before Leah could finish thinking, _Good on them_ , on behalf of her fellow wolves, dread crunched her innards in an iron grip. "You brought them _here_?"

" _They brought themselves here. Listen, Leah_ ," he said, adding the last bit quickly, obviously anticipating protest, " _we all don't have a lot of time for mindless chit-chat, and I for one don't have the patience to guide you through it all over the phone. Now, why don't we both sit down together like the civilised individuals that we are, and talk? I've got questions_."

 _Oh, I bet you do_. "I'm _not_ walking into a trap. What part of that do you not understand?"

" _No trap. Meet me at the Forks Coffee Shop in…fifteen minutes_?"

She ground her teeth together. Well, a public place couldn't be too bad, but this still went against everything she believed in. What else was she supposed to do, though? Desperate times and all that. "Make it ten." She disconnected the call. There was no need to ask him what he looked like. Even if these things didn't stand out like a sore thumb among humans, their smell was something she'd recognise anywhere.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** **Just to keep your minds at ease regarding future events, dear readers, I would like to assure you that I will not pull a SMeyer and send everybody home at the end after a civilised conversation. Having a ton of build-up and then no actual climax would really suck, and I aim not to do so. There will be no cop-outs in this story, which means the resolution, once it comes, won't be simply sunshines and daisies - YE BE WARNED. This is a vampire story and vampires can be really nasty pieces of work. Also, consequences and all that jazz.**

 **As always, thank you very much for reading and for your thoughtful reviews. I try to take everything that is said to heart.**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

 **1** **They'd taken the flight from Jacksonville at seven p.m., stopping at Houston, reaching Seattle around midnight.** The drive to Forks took almost four hours due to several construction sites on the road, but luckily, one of the group wasn't human and needed no sleep. Demetri offered to drive, which both Renée and Charlie, who were dead on their feet, accepted gladly. He'd already rented a new car before they left Jacksonville. They were hardly off the car park, and the two humans dozed off. Small wonder, really, considering how incredibly worn-out they were from all the emotional stress. Maybe this whole deal could be resolved without tipping them off to the existence of the supernatural. In that case, they'd be allowed to live. The odds of that happening, however, were pretty slim, considering how conspicuous the vampires here were, and how much weirdness had piled up ever since said vampires had shown their sparkly faces in this part of the world.

The problem was, since the Cullens had a precog who Saw decision-based futures, there was no deciding to simply show up at their doorstep – not if he wanted to catch them unprepared. Sending Irina had been the obvious choice, but she'd disappeared. Sending yet another vampire would probably yield the same result, potentially strengthening a hostile force in the process. In other words, doing the same thing twice and expecting a different outcome was more than stupid.

There was no doubt in his mind that the Cullen family had fucked up royally. Something bad had happened, and it wasn't just them trying to hide a new-born. Why they'd changed Bella right here, in the middle of civilisation, was beyond his comprehension. Why hadn't they taken her to Denali, where the chances of her running amok and butchering hordes of humans were much slimmer? This was badly thought out – all of it. Either they really were that stupid, or they had been unable to move her for some reason. If the latter was true, it had to be a damn good one. He was inclined to lean toward that hypothesis, if only because of Irina's continued radio silence. That was so odd and out of character for her. She was a quiet and thoughtful woman, but she held a grudge like hardly anyone he'd ever met; she would not change sides for any reason other than coercion.

When they reached Charlie's house, Demetri was almost loath to wake the poor humans, but it had to be done. Charlie set Renée up in Bella's room and wanted to offer his guest his own bed, but the guest naturally declined and said the couch looked great. Little later, the two mortals were sleeping soundly again, and even though Demetri wanted nothing more than head on to the Cullen mansion and finally find out what the hell was going on there, he stayed in the house, in silence, unmoving. Patience was a virtue, and in this case, lives depended on it.

* * *

 **2** **Very early the next morning, right after dawn, Charlie came down the stairs into the kitchen seemingly ready to go**. He looked rested, clean, and very much determined. That was good; a man with a clear purpose tended to have a clear head.

"Sleep well?" he asked, fumbling with the coffee maker.

Demetri, who'd been sitting by the table for the past two hours checking the local news, put away his phone, and said, "I did, thank you. You look much better, if I may say so."

Charlie glanced over his shoulder, smiling wryly. "You may, and thanks. Haven't had a good night's sleep in forever." The coffee was brewing. He turned around, leaned against the kitchen counter, and thoughtfully looked down at his guest. "Let me ask you a question, kid: how well do you know any of these Cullens, anyway?"

Demetri shrugged, pulled the sleeves of his grey sweater and black jacket over his hands, and said, "Not too well. About a year ago, I think, two of them visited us in London: Alice and Jasper."

"Ah," Charlie said, made a face, and scratched his neck. "I like her, but the boyfriend's a weirdo."

"I thought they were, uhm...how do I put this" – He scratched his neck, shrugged, and chuckled – "flashy."

Charlie blinked at him and then snorted dry laughter. "Yeah. That's a pretty accurate description. They're flashy, all right, and they just love to wave wads of money in everybody's faces. Just between you and me, I think the glitz and glamour is what Bella fell in love with, not that pompous little prick Edward." Two seconds later, the amusement got wiped from his face, and he frowned down at his shoes. "Would you look at that? First time I mention my little girl in casual conversation ever since…" He pressed his lips together and breathed in deeply.

"I'm so sorry," Demetri said quietly. "I wish things weren't the way they are." That at least was the unabashed truth of the matter.

"Yeah, that makes two of us, son," Charlie said, and motioned in direction of the living room. "I woke Renée up before coming down here. She's taking a shower upstairs. We should be ready to head to the reservation in less than an hour."

"Good." He smiled a little. "Thank you for taking me with you, and for allowing me to stay in your home."

Charlie gave him an almost imperceptible little nod. "Sure thing. We're in this together, anyway, right?"

"Right. That we are."

* * *

 **3** **They drove up to Billy Black's house in Demetri's rental, but with Charlie behind the wheel this time.** The weather was beautiful, even if the air was cold. The sun was out, but that wasn't a problem for a man who knew how to apply foundation. It might not be considered very macho in this kind of cultural climate, but that didn't matter. It was preferable to sparkling in the sunlight, in any case.

The moment Charlie parked the car and they all got out, the house's front door was opened, and a middle-aged Quileute man came out in a wheelchair. He was wearing a decidedly hostile look on his sharp-featured face, glowering at Demetri like he was trying to banish the Antichrist. Well, right now, he would have to live with it, like it or not.

"Charlie, Renée," the man, presumably Mister Black, greeted unenthusiastically. "We weren't expecting you."

"Hey, Billy," Charlie said, walked up to his friend, and shook his hand firmly. Renée did the same. "Sorry to barge in on you like this, but, uh" – He shoved his hands into the pockets of his parka and cleared his throat – "we kind of have to talk to you."

Mister Black gave Demetri a very cold look. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, right," Charlie said, briefly glancing at Demetri. "This is Matt. Matt, this is my friend, William Black. He's Jacob's father." He locked eyes with Mister Black again. "You know how Bella just disappeared, and we were all fed that sob story about a mystical disease no-one had a name for? Same thing happened to his girl."

"Sorry to hear that," Mister Black said, deadpan.

"Thank you, sir," Demetri replied, smiling. He could smell non-humans in the vicinity, but they weren't actual werewolves – not the kind that he was familiar with from Europe, at least. Interesting. His superiors would want to know everything about these creatures he could find out.

"Thing is, Billy," Charlie said, kicking at the gravel with one foot, "we need to talk. We know that you know something, and we won't leave until you've come clean."

"And we're done listening to excuses," Renée added, her voice friendly but determined. "No offense."

"None taken," Mister Black said, glaring at Demetri. "I just don't get what you want to hear from me. I don't know anything. You should really go talk to the Cullens, they-"

"Billy, _enough!_ " Charlie's eyes narrowed. His face was livid. "I've _had_ it with this crap. I'm sorry, but I don't believe that you know nothing. The Cullens won't talk to any of us, and you won't talk to any of them. Something happened, and I am here to get some answers. Don't push me away. _Please_."

For a while, it seemed that he wasn't going to budge, but finally, Mister Black turned around the chair and wheeled it back into the house. "Come on in."

" _Thank_ you," Charlie said, his voice still strained, and followed him briskly.

They all sat down in the small-ish, but lovingly decorated living room – all three visitors on the worn, grey sofa, Mister Black facing them.

"I'll tell you what I know," he said, very obviously unhappy. "Your daughter married a stupid, arrogant, racist, self-important idiot who endangered her life and exposed her to something deadly. My son decided to spend all the time Bella had left at her side. We urged the Cullens to get her the treatment she needed, but they refused, and she died. I haven't spoken to my son since that day, because he won't admit that they killed her through their inaction."

Charlie and Renée stared at him, exchanged a look, and stared at him again.

"What did my daughter die of?" Renée said quietly. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but her jaw was set and her voice did not tremble.

Mister Black returned her look squarely. "A parasite. Edward Cullen infected her with a parasite, and that is what killed her. It was his fault. They tried to hide it, tried to take care of it themselves, but it killed her."

Both Charlie and Renée's eyes grew wide. They looked positively thunderstruck.

"What, uh" – Charlie pressed his knuckles to his lips and cleared his throat again – "what about the other girl, Irina?"

"I don't know about her, but if she was infected, too, then she's probably gone." Mister Black glared at Demetri again, who did his best to look shocked.

In his mind, however, the _nomisma_ dropped. Of course. There could only be one explanation for all this oddness. All the pieces were now coming together. Needless to say, these were terrible news. Well, at least now he knew what he was up against, even if the mere possibility was more than just a little unsettling. He'd dealt with this kind of critter before, even though each was unique in its own right. It had to be a dhampir. There was no other plausible explanation.

"You got to arrest them, Charlie," Renée said tonelessly. Her face was paper-white, a stark contrast to her bright-red sweater. "They killed our Bella through _negligence_."

Charlie shook his head. "We need proof. Can't do anything without proof."

"You can prove that they _lied_ ," she said. "They made up all this bullshit about clinics and the CDC, and _none of it is true_."

"We can't prove that, either. It's a they-said-we-said if we _can't prove it_ , _Renée_." Charlie rubbed at his eyes and exhaled sharply. "I need some fresh air. Excuse me." Woodenly, he got up to his feet and stomped outside, followed closely by his ex-wife.

That was it. Moment of truth. Demetri focussed his full attention on Mister Black. "They turned her in a hurry, didn't they? They turned her because they had to, and that parasite? It's a child, isn't it? Edward knocked up his blushing human bride because he's an idiot who doesn't know the first thing about his own species."

Mister Black just looked at him coldly, chin up, jaw set. There was something very regal about that, about him. "You need to leave and never come back. Your kind isn't welcome here."

"Well, that's a shame, given the fact that my kind has allowed you to live, even though werewolves of all variations are our self-declared enemies," Demetri said, slightly tilting his head to the side, not taking his eyes off Mister Black's. "I, however, am not your enemy, sir. I'm here to deal with those morons, the Cullens. I thought you'd be glad to hear it. You want them gone. I am happy to oblige."

"You've _allowed_ us to live?" He arched an eyebrow. "Boy, you should count your blessings that I'm allowing _you_ to leave this place in one piece. Just find some excuse for Charlie and Renée and get out of here while you still can."

"I know all about the treaty, and I know that by turning Miss Swan, the Cullens have broken it," Demetri went on calmly. He was sure that Edward did not realise that by touching Aro's hand, back in Volterra, he had not only given all of his own thoughts away, but also every thought he'd ever eavesdropped on, as well. Hiding the wolves from the Volturi after the interlude with all those Seattle new-borns had been utterly pointless. "I wonder: has she already killed civilians?" He saw Mister Black's pupils widen and couldn't help but smile a little. "She has, then, and now, you have no choice but to attack them. I take it your son has defected to their side? He's a wolf, too, am I right?" Again, no answer came. "Interesting. So you're willing to fight your own just to see justice served. I understand that; I do."

"I don't _care_ what you understand and what you don't. Stay away from my people."

"I will, on one condition: tell me about the child."

"I don't-"

"With all due respect, sir, and excuse me for interrupting, but I think you do." He waited, but Mister Black just stared at him stonily. "I'm not some lowly nomad. I have not just a lot of backup, but very powerful backup, at that. Your little tribe doesn't stand a chance against us. Now" – He raised his hands defensively – "I'm not threatening you. I'm just telling you a fact and making it simple. These half-vampire children are very, very serious business for my people. They tend to be volatile and have unpredictable powers. I need to know what this child is like."

"What do you want with her?" Mister Black said, squinting at Demetri with a healthy dose of suspicion.

"Her? Interesting." He shrugged. "Nothing much. We want to protect the human public from her influence. We want to keep our world a secret. We want to minimise the loss of life. That's why I'm here."

"You just want that kid?"

"We want to bring justice to the Cullens, too, but if you're already gearing up for that, we won't stand in your way."

"You don't interfere with our justice, and we won't interfere with yours," Mister Black said flatly, after mulling everything over for a minute. "You don't kill on our land. You-"

"I don't kill at all, not unless circumstances force my hand."

"You keep your claws off my people, my son, the Cullens. They broke our law, and we will punish them for it as we see fit."

Demetri leaned slightly forward. "Done. Tell me about the girl."

"There's only one thing to tell," Mister Black said, unsmiling. "Don't let her touch you – ever. If you do, you'll be lost."

That would explain Irina's silence. This was worse than he thought. "All right. I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Yeah, right," Mister Black muttered, and scoffed with pure disdain. "Now get the hell off my land."

Little later, the trio left La Push and returned to Forks. Charlie said he'd be heading to the station to put an end to his leave of absence. Renée asked to be dropped off at the local library to do some research, even though she didn't specify what kind. Demetri was taken to the Swan house after Charlie told him that the best thing he could do was to stay out of the way.

Once alone, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his trousers and called Chelsea.

" _Talk to me, handsome_."

He was standing in the kitchen, looking out the window at the empty street. A breeze was shaking up the trees, blowing red leafs swirling into the air. "It's a dhampir."

There was a beat of silence. " _You're kidding_."

"I wish I were, but I just got confirmation from the local brand of werewolves. Isabella Swan was turned because she birthed a dhampir."

On the other side of the line, Chelsea whistled lowly. " _Who would've thought that stick-in-the-mud Edward Cullen had it in him to not shoot blanks?_ "

Despite the seriousness of the situation and despite himself, Demetri had to grin, feeling juvenile. "I wouldn't have thought it possible, either," he said, snickering like a thirteen-year-old boy. How very ridiculous. "It's true, though. Also, the Cullens have ignited a war with the wolves for allowing new-born Bella to murder humans on their land."

" _Well, that was colossally stupid of our dear friends, although I shouldn't be surprised, really. Do you know what kind of power the dhampir has?_ "

"Yes. It's basic tactile mind-control, as far as I can tell. Sounds like she's building herself a loyal collective of protectors."

Chelsea sighed theatrically. " _They're always so melodramatic and starved for love, those things. Okay, then. Nothing for it. I'll inform the bosses. I suppose Caius will want in on the action, given the wolf situation_."

"The chief of the wolves warned me not to get involved in their revenge. Shall we let them duke it out?"

" _I'd have to ask, but I don't see why not. We can decide what to do with the survivors later. The dhampir is our priority, though. You did a great job, sweetheart. Well done_."

"Why, thank you," he said, tracing his fingers across the kitchen counter, pulling up one corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. "I aim to please."

" _Oh, don't you ever_ ," she said, and laughed. " _Okay, seriously, though: stay out of sight and earshot of the telepath and the precog. We'll be with you shortly_."

"When?"

" _Two days, no more. I'll convince Caius to bring Corin – which shouldn't be too hard – Renata, the twins, and your best mate. He misses you, you know_."

"Of course he does. I'm the best thing that ever happened to that poor sod."

Again, she laughed. " _You're evil, and I'll make sure to pass on the love-note. Anyway, take care, and I look forward to seeing you again_."

"Me, too. Oh, and do send my best to your charming better half." He disconnected the call. As he was about to put the phone away, it rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he raised his eyebrows. This was odd. At once, he took the call. "Irina."

" _I'm afraid Irina is unavailable, so you'll have to make do with me_ ," an unknown, female, not human voice said very lowly. All right, then. Things had now officially got even more interesting.

* * *

 **4** **Warily, prepared for really anything, Leah walked into the eatery in question** – it was a simple, sparsely decorated, but clean and pleasant place – and immediately spotted the Evil Brit sitting by himself at the back of the room, nursing a steaming cup. Okay, she hadn't exactly expected a moustache-twirling douche in a flowing cape, but she certainly had not pictured a skinny kid with a mop of emo dark-brown hair falling into his white-washed forehead, or a cutesy face. Not that it mattered one bit what the guy looked like. Looks could be oh so deceiving, especially when it came to leeches.

The vamp's eyes immediately zeroed in on her. He…what? He smiled jovially and waved, looking honestly happy to see her. Huh. Weirdo. Eyeing him with even more suspicion, Leah slowly approached him, taking in his appearance as she did so. He was wearing a grey turtleneck sweater, a black jacket, and a dark-blue scarf like a right yuppie, and looked a little like an eighteen-year-old who'd stolen his metrosexual dad's leisure clothes. Yikes.

When she reached his table, he was still smiling. "Hello, Leah, it's so nice to make your acquaintance," he said, and motioned at the chair opposite him. "Please, have a seat."

Hesitantly, she sat, keeping tense and straight as an arrow. What was _with_ this guy? She looked about, but there was no-one in close proximity to overhear them if they kept it down. "What the hell were you doing on Quileute land?"

He held his hands over the steaming cup and nodded. "Yes. That. I'm sorry I intruded, but I really needed to find out what was happening at the Cullen estate without alerting the precog. It was a breach of protocol, but an excusable one, given the circumstances."

Her dark, thin eyebrows shot up. "Alice? You're doing this whole song and dance routine of dragging Charlie and his ex out of Florida, traipsing into the reservation, and playing spy because of _Alice_?" She couldn't help herself. All the tension of the last few months, the constant anger and worry and disgust over aiding the natural enemies of her kind, all the crap she'd taken from Jacob and Seth and the leeches, the certainty of looming death, it all…well, it all just kind of collapsed in on itself. She burst out laughing, burying her face in her hands.

"Something tells me that it was a futile exercise," he said flatly.

An unknown, female voice belonging to steps that approached their table said, "Can I…get you anything…hon?" She sounded insecure.

"She'll have a coffee, too, thank you," he said, and the steps receded. "Whenever you're ready."

Finally, Leah was. From the pocket of her jeans, she pulled a handkerchief, blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and tried hard to stem the flow of giggles still erupting from her like a geyser. "Oh, man," she finally said, and nearly apologised to the vamp. "Yeah. Wolves and demon-spawn around, Alice can't See shit – just so you know." She crossed her arms on the table and looked at him again, saw that he'd pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, and that he was cradling that cup as if his life depended on it. Arching one eyebrow, she said, "Wait a minute, are you actually feeling cold?"

He nodded, raised the cup to his lips and – with rather well-disguised revulsion – drank from it. That must not have been easy. "Bitter. Anyway, yes, I…tend to get cold a lot."

"But…aren't you supposed to…I don't know, not?"

"It's psychosomatic." Again, he drank from the coffee, saw her watching this, and snickered. "How would it look if I didn't drink anything, ever? Suspicious, right? Mustn't have that."

"You're really trying to blend in, aren't you?" She briefly motioned at his face with a jerk of her chin. "Not sparkling in the sunshine, either, I see." They were sat by a big window, bathed in the golden light of a cloudless morning. The weather was so nice, it was deserving of purple prose. "Are you wearing _foundation_?"

"What else do you suggest I do?"

A waitress brought Leah coffee, which she acknowledged with a nod and a smile. Once the young woman had hurried away again, Leah frowned a little, and said, "You sure you're a leech?"

He squinted a little and chuckled. "That's a very unflattering moniker, I have to say, but yes, I am."

"Gonna barf that up again, later?" She pointed at his coffee. He nodded, and she couldn't help but grin. "Huh. Got myself my first bulimic vamp. How about that?" She sighed and shook her head, picking up her own cup. "Whatever. So, you know why Irina couldn't call you, then? Why she had to go through her own song and dance to reach you?"

"The child. Mister Black told me about her power. He also told me about his people's impending march of justice against the Cullens."

"That's one way of putting it," she said, breathing in the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee and taking a cautious sip. It was very hot. "So, you show up at the reservation, get the heads-up from Billy, of all people, and…" She trailed off and shrugged. "Now what? You people got a law against half-vamp brats? Coz everyone I know, except for Alaska Blonde, is adamant that she is unique."

The boy, who was probably much older than she was, but didn't look a day over twenty, shook his head. "She isn't. Most, uh…leeches" – He smiled amiably – "can't procreate like that. We can have sex whenever we want, for some reason unexplained, but most of us are on the lower scale of the sperm count. How did my friend put it? We shoot blanks."

She stared at him out of wide eyes, lips pressed tightly together, feeling as if caught in a bizarre yet very lame 90s sitcom. First the set-up to a cop-buddy comedy with Bella frigging Swan, and now a sex-ed class with a vampire? This was too much. She harrumphed and drank more of her coffee. At length, she had herself under control again. "O…kay. So, some of you can obviously knock up a girl, and when that happens, an unholy abomination is born every single time? That's certainly nature's way of telling you to practice safer sex."

"I can't really find it in myself to disagree with you. As for your question: well, every dhampir is different. Some have terrible, almost unstoppable powers you really don't want to know about if you value your beauty sleep," he said, calm and smiling. This was the weirdest kind of harmonic dissonance she had ever seen in real life. "Others have what the one you know has: tactile mind-control. She can bind people to her by touch?"

Leah shuddered and nodded. "You can say that twice. She puts pictures in your mind – visions. It's super creepy. It doesn't matter if the visions are true; whoever she touches and sends them to can't help but believe them. I've seen how it works. It's like part of who she touches gets erased; they get replaced by pod people. The more she touches a person's skin, the more devoted that person becomes."

"I gather you were the one who got away."

"Not entirely, no. I'm still stuck with them due to my pack situation, but I'm pretty sure you already knew that." She scrutinised him carefully – his boyish, symmetrical, sharp-featured and thin face – and wondered when exactly she'd taken the wrong turn that led her down this path, ending with her having coffee with a goddamn vampire. "You haven't answered my question. What are you gonna do now?"

After forcing another sip down – it must taste like soap water to him, or something equally repulsive – he said, "I have come to an agreement with Mister Black: we, that is my friends and I, will not interfere with their justice. They will allow us to take the girl."

"Renesmee."

"Gesundheit."

She chortled. "No, that's her name. The demon-spawn's name is Renesmee."

He gave her a comical look of disbelief that almost sent her over the edge again, the gravity of the circumstances be damned. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," she said, sniggering. What was wrong with her? It wasn't even funny – not really. "Since I'm probably gonna die three days from now, anyway, and you're my only hope, Obi-Wan Kenobi, it doesn't matter if I spill the beans: Jacob, Billy Black's son, is imprinted on the demon-spawn. That means she's destined to once bear his werewolf babies of some shit like that, and he is literally incapable of not following her orders. The wolves are forbidden from hurting an imprint. That means trouble if you want to freak-nap Re-name-me while Jacob's still breathing."

The serene smile stayed right where it was. "Yes, I kind of figured that Mister Black wanted to set me up, or at least make sure some of my people got killed without us blaming his people for it. Thank you for the warning."

"I'm getting used to working with you walking Yankee candles, so whatever," she said dryly, and waved off.

"Yankee candle?"

"Never mind. So…what? You just watch us and Sam's pack annihilate each other, and when no-one's looking, you'll stuff the spawn into a burlap sack and sneak away? Brilliant plan."

The smile turned into a rather self-satisfied smirk. "We're getting the spawn before the epic battle of the heroes takes place."

She squinted at him. "Did you just quote a title out of the _Star Wars: Episode Three_ soundtrack?"

"Two can play that game." He put his cup down. "So, this is where I tell you why I wanted to speak to you in person, Leah. You see, you're not like the werewolves we know in Europe, whose lycanthropy is passed on via infection, and who turn involuntarily every full moon. Still, your people and mine are natural enemies, and my masters do not look kindly on vampires who associate with werewolves. It's a crime, and it's a crime for a very simple reason: wherever our two species collide, conflict erupts. Conflict attracts attention – human attention. We can't have that. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you why that is."

She returned his look squarely and pointed at his – to her – very obvious dark contact lenses. "And you sucking humans dry doesn't attract human attention, you bozo?"

The smile returned. "I don't kill my prey. We don't – my coven. We feed on humans, yes, but we try very hard not to kill anyone."

"How magnanimous of you."

"I mean it. We're stationary, and we live in a tourist town. What do you think would happen if we lured entire groups of people into our catacombs and murdered them indiscriminately? We'd be discovered in a flash. That can't happen. That's the entire reason the Volturi exist: we regulate the vampire world by keeping our kind's natural stupidity and arrogance and god-complex in check. It's a thankless job, but someone has to do it."

"Is killing humans a crime, too?" Not that she believed him, even though his reasoning made sense.

He briefly bit his lower lip and glanced down at his hands. "No, but it's very difficult being discreet whilst murdering several humans for food each week."

"That's what Renesmee is making them do, you know: drink as many humans dry as possible, so that they'll be strong enough to defend her." She studied his face, tried to gauge his reaction, but found nothing she could make sense of. This guy wasn't as chipper and eager to rip people limb from limb as Jasper, but he was oddly relaxed and really had this slick polite façade down. Vampires. What a bunch of freaks. "You were telling me about the Cullens' crime of associating with wolves for a reason. I suspect you're just gonna sit back and wait for them to call attention to themselves when they feed, so that you'll have an excuse to kill them all."

"They're dangerous, Leah," he said, suddenly serious. "They buy houses and inherit their own fortunes every generation. They regularly play the stock market, for crying out loud. It's suspicious. I have it on good authority that they've caught the eye of the Feds, and now, Charlie Swan is starting a serious investigation. They will be caught eventually, and when they are, they'll be found out as not human. It'll make the news. Needless to say, that's the last thing we want to happen."

"Okay, this is getting more bizarre by the second," she said, brushing a rebellious strand of her hair behind her ear. "Fine, I'll just take your word for it. Here's the thing: I don't care if they die. They're murderous assholes who allowed that new-born army in Seattle to be amassed without lifting a finger to stop it. They don't care if we die, either, so there's no love lost on either side. However, I do care about Jacob and Seth, my little brother. He's in the same boat. I care about Sam and his subordinate wolves, too. From what gather, your bosses will want to murder all of us, as well, so…what am doing here, Junior? Seriously, what do _want_ from me? You seem to have it all under very tight control."

"What do I want?" He reached out with his right. "Give me your hand, please."

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Not gonna happen."

"I won't hurt you. I just need to make sure you're being candid with me. Please."

Oh, great, another Patrick Jane wannabe. Sighing, she leaned forward, reached out, and let him feel her pulse with his cold fingertips. "Knock yourself out, champ."

"Thank you," he said, smiling again. She wished he'd stop doing that. "So, I know that I agreed to honour Mister Black's terms, and I've already passed this on to my superiors. However-"

"You're a lying liar who lies."

" _However_ , I found out that one of my superiors, an ancient Roman, the one who really hates werewolves and has been fighting them for millennia, will be joining us very soon. I suppose he'll want to eliminate your tribe once the Cullen situation has been dealt with. Still-"

Leah gave him a withering glare. "Oh, it's an ancient Roman who's gonna butcher all my friends and family, instead of some lame-ass nobody? I feel so honoured."

"It would help if you'd let me finish my sentences," he said, not sounding annoyed at all, which was annoying all by itself. "My superior, the one who hates werewolves, will honour an agreement that benefits us more than wanton killing. He'll honour it especially if I can convince him that your tribe is not related to our brand of werewolves, and that your people will stop turning once the Cullens are history. That's the truth anyway, isn't it? That you'll stop phasing once the vampires leave the area for good?"

"Yeah," she said curtly.

"Hm," he made, nodded again, and wiped some emo fringe out of his pasty-white face. "So, what I want to know from you is this: if I were to offer you a deal in which you get certain guarantees regarding yourself and your brother, at least, would you consider working with me?"

She raised her eyebrows at him again. "You want me to buy my freedom with the blood of my friends and former pack members? _Fuck_ you. That's my answer."

"What about none of your people dying, only the culprits we were going to punish anyway?" he went on without a glitch. "Would that be acceptable?"

"Maybe," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Just...stop it with these moronic guessing games, okay? You vamps seem to love this shit, but it's infuriating. Give it to me straight: what are you planning to _do_?"

"Very well," he said. In the background, someone dropped a plate, and it clattered noisily to the floor, breaking. A few patrons hooted and hollered at that. "Two days from now, a group of my friends will arrive here. We'll take care of the situation for you. When the pack from La Push arrives, you and your fellow wolves will be all that is left."

At least a minute went by during which they just stared at each other, and he held onto her wrist. It must look like the sappiest date to an outsider: two young people gawping at one another intently, holding hands across the table. Cute.

"All right," she said, swallowed her disgust, grabbed his actual hand, and shook it once before leaning back again, crossing her arms. "You got yourself a deal." Desperate times called for desperate measures. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but I don't see what other choice I have that's any better. Do your thing, and I will make sure that my two pack members and I stay out of your hair. No wolves die, no civilians die, and you keep your paws off Bella's parents, too. That's the deal I'll take."

"Good. That's good. Oh, there's one more thing," he said, as Leah got up to her feet, ready to leave and breathe some fresh air that didn't smell like Yankee candles and cotton candy and every sugar in the world ever all at once. He cracked a dizzyingly sweet smile at her. "Whatever you decide to do, in the end, Irina is off limits. Whoever touches her gets torn to ribbons. She's my responsibility, and I won't tolerate any harm being done to her."

"Alaska Blonde is the least of my concerns," Leah replied coolly, started walking away, but stopped to look in his direction over her shoulder again. "Oh, _there's_ _one more thing_ : don't ever threaten me again." With that, she strode outside, having no clue whether she'd done the right thing, but knowing that it was better than sitting around doing nothing at all.

* * *

 **5** **As Leah trudged through the woods back to Castle New Money** , she pushed everything that had happened to the back of her mind and did all she could to repel Wardo with images that would send him running for the hills. He was such a little prude. She also suspected that he was so far in the closet that he'd circled the Earth and gone back in time, but that was a matter of pure speculation. In any case, as long as there was hentai, an effective Wardo-repellent was in place, and that was all that mattered right now in terms of being sneaky. Yes, if she turned back into a wolf, she'd have to double the efforts of keeping her thoughts hidden, but it was doable. Besides, it was only two days. Surely she'd manage to hold out for two days.

Deal with the devil, indeed. No, it wasn't pretty, and she felt the ugly sting of guilt piercing her guts at her betrayal, but…

…but what? Seriously, what? What was her _problem_? This wasn't betrayal! These vamps here were the reason she, her family, and her friends – hell, her entire community – had been dragged into this maelstrom of supernatural insanity. Her father had died because of the Cullens, because their presence had forced Leah's transformation. Also, the Cullens had left without informing anyone that a vengeful psycho named Victoria might come back to wreak havoc. Dozens of people in Seattle had died because the Cullens had just sat back and marvelled at their own glittery goodness, their thumbs firmly up their own butts. The wolves had been dragged into that mess because of this! If they'd lost that fight, all of La Push would have been wiped out in a haze of crazed vampire revenge. The Cullens had been very much okay with that distinct possibility.

The whole Sam-imprinting-on-Emily disaster, that had ended with Emily getting half her face torn off? That had happened because the Cullens had come back to Forks. Leah's own inexplicable infertility? The Cullens' fault. Jacob getting his brain wiped over the demon-spawn? Cullens. Bella being turned? Cullens. Bella's parents being in mortal danger? Cullens. The entire goddamn town being at risk? Cullens. The demon-spawn and its frightening, unpredictable potential that might just grow strong enough to let it subjugate the entire planet? _Fucking Cullens_. None of this would've happened if they'd just stayed the hell away from here. All of the other tragedies they were involved with wouldn't have happened if they weren't so damn self-important and self-satisfied.

Those leeches were a _menace_. They were stupid, arrogant, careless, and self-centred to the extreme. Not only that, but their death-toll numbered in the thousands, at _least_ , according to what Jacob had told her. Jasper alone had gleefully murdered droves of people before joining up. Alice had 'slipped' a number of times. Emmett had 'accidentally' eaten a poor old woman whose blood had 'sung' to him, and that hadn't been the only time he'd gone 'oops, sorry, guess you're dead now' on innocent people's unsuspecting behinds. Edward had run off on a pouty, angst-ridden, decade-long bender, turning into a wannabe vigilante, sadistic serial killer during that time. Rosalie had killed people. Bella had ripped four humans apart on her first day out of the house. Leah didn't know about Esme, but was pretty sure her hands weren't squeaky clean, either.

Great and noble Clyde himself had forcibly turned dying people into blood-thirsty, undead freaks without asking for permission even once. Hell, Esme had tried to die and Rosalie had just been gang-raped to death. What kind of person would go and violate these people, desecrate them all over again, and for the most selfish of reasons? Both Esme and Rosalie had been turned for sex. Esme was supposed to become Clyde's wifie, and rape-victim Rosalie Edward's. What was _wrong_ with him?

Preppy Boy had had the right of it when he'd mentioned his kind's innate god-complex. Christ on a cracker!

They always ran the risk of screwing up over and over again, even when their hive queen wasn't actively ordering them to go and commit mass murder.

It wasn't nice, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't good, but killing vampires was Leah's business. She'd become a wolf for a reason. These weren't misunderstood, peaceful, quiet creatures who just wanted to be left alone. They were murdering assholes who needed to be stopped. No, allying with the vampire government wasn't the bees knees, either, but according to Yuppie Emo Hair, their top priority was to keep out of the media. They wanted to get rid of the Cullens and the demon-spawn. Leah wanted this. Sam wanted this. It was ugly and brutal, but it was necessary. No, she was not going to feel bad about enabling something bloody in response to so much death and misery.

Angry, she stomped through the woods, not paying attention to her surroundings, not caring if she was being loud. She was _not_ going to apologise to herself, of all people, for choosing between a rock and a hard place instead of sitting on the ledge. She was not-

Something hard and heavy collided sideways with her, knocking her into the earth, crushing her beneath it, face down. There was a harsh grip on her wrist. Someone pulled her left arm behind her back painfully. She gnashed her teeth together. Her knee was bent, ankle to her thigh. Weight on her – a body. The air smelled cloyingly sweet. Vampire. Her body started shaking, trembling, she-

"Oh, no, sweetheart. No, no. None of that. Do it, and I'll rip off an arm and a leg long before you can fur-splode. Don't test me."

 _Ah, fuck_ , she thought, turning her face to the side, trying not to eat or breathe in dirt _. Goddamn it. Jasper_.

"Since it's just the two of us out here, in this lovely place," he whispered lowly into her ear, bearing down on her with his considerable body-weight, "how about we have a nice, leisurely chat about what the hell you've been up to?"

Inwardly, she sighed. This was not the time to derail the plan. She forced herself to calm down, to breathe as deeply as she could, to slow down the frantic pace of her heart. Pretending that this undignified position didn't make her want to tear his throat out, that it left her utterly cold, she said, "I'm all ears, asshole."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Those of you waiting for the vampires to get some justice, please note: it'll take some time and I have to amp up the stakes, but it will happen. I won't spoiler you, dear readers, but rest assured that your outrage at some of the things happening in this story will not be in vain. Patience, padawans.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

 **1** **"Good. Now, I'm gonna turn you around so we can have a proper conversation, but we're gonna stay down here just a tad longer.** Don't do anything stupid. You won't have time to phase without losing a couple of limbs. Understood?"

Leah wanted to tell Creepula he could rip off her arm and shove it up his own ass, but she had a job to do. Reminding herself of Yuppie Boy's promise to rid the Earth of all Cullens (two days only two days and they would be safe it would be over done with over forever), she bit down the reply and forced herself to keep her ire in check. "Understood."

"Good girl," he said, and before she knew it, he'd spun her around, slammed her back into the forest ground, and pressed himself on top of her, pinning her arms above her head.

She hit her head on the ground and inhaled sharply. Stars danced before her eyes. As she blinked them away, she saw that his face couldn't be ten inches away from hers. The overpoweringly sweet, cinnamon-like smell of his skin burned in her nostrils. It was all she could do not do pull up her knee, wipe the smirk off this creep's stupid vampire face. She glowered up at him. "What the _fuck_ do you want, you little shit?" The asshole gave off cold like she was being buried under an ice-block. Fun times, these were not.

"This is something I like about you," he said in that patented Southern drawl of his she had a feeling he cultivated on purpose. "You don't banter. You cut right to the chase."

"Return the favour and do the same. I don't like being crushed to death by an ice-cold lump of sugar."

"You say the sweetest things," he said, pulling up one corner of his mouth in a crooked grin.

She grimaced at him over the bad, bad pun, opened her mouth to tell him to cut it out, and…

…oh, God.

Her mouth stayed open on her frozen expression as she stared at him, wide-eyed, chilled to the bone for more than one reason.

His eyes were brightly crimson.

"You killed someone," she whispered. For a moment, she almost lost control. Her body started trembling. Her face got burning hot. Bile shot up her throat. Her heartbeat was frantic.

"Sh, calm down; calm down," he said, straddling her, crushing his thighs against hers, immobilising her. "Don't make it even worse for yourself."

"I'm gonna fucking _end_ you, you-"

"Well, if you're like that, then I have to be like this," he said, calm as ever, grinning.

That was when she felt it: her whole body relaxed, was drowned in tranquillity. She stopped struggling. Motherfucker. "Tell me what you want and get away from me." After a little pause, she added, "I hate your guts so goddamn much."

The grin morphed into a very self-satisfied smile. These things really were all in love with themselves, weren't they? Son of a bitch. "Where were you?"

Glaring up into that perfectly symmetrical, pouty-lipped face of his, she snapped, " _Trying to convince Sam to not curb-stomp your sparkly asses_ ," through clenched teeth. "I'm glad he didn't budge, though. You don't deserve being saved."

"Wrong answer, sunshine. I actually scouted out the reservation, and you were a very glaring no-show."

"You did _what?_ "

"Don't deflect. You are up to no good, and things being as they are, I kind of have a zero tolerance policy toward liars and traitors," he said, squeezing her wrists harshly, making her flinch and suck in a sharp breath. "To put it colloquially: jig's up, peaches. Confess your sins."

By God, did he have to be this melodramatic? _Christ_. " _Fuck_ you. I don't need to tell you anything, you little jerk. I wanted some space, and I don't need to have one of you ass-clowns sniffing after me every time I step out. I can't betray you, now, can I? Jacob won't let me."

The longest, most uncomfortable pause ensued, during which he just kept pinning her down, squeezing her legs with his thighs, crushing her upper body with his, smiling right into her face. Good Lord. At least the close proximity to her high temperature was warming him up a bit. Thankfully, these things weren't heat-sinks, on top of everything else. "You never knew me before I stared dumbing myself down with that disgusting animal crap. Look at me now, Miss Clearwater. I just got a very healthy dose of lost hikers into my body." He bore down on her even more, leaning in so close that his nose was almost touching hers. "I'm not an idiot. You want the kid dead above all. You met someone to talk about this, to make arrangements – to save yourself and your kin." Again, he squeezed her wrists. Blinding, searing pain shot down her arms, but she remained impassive. "Tell me who."

Unable and very much unwilling to help herself, she spat into his face. "Go to hell," she said, enunciating every word slowly, separately. Then, she laughed. "You think you can intimidate me by threatening to rip my arms off, by crushing me into the ground, by mind-doping me? You can't. Either get on with it, or get lost. You ain't the boss of me, jackass."

Her spittle right below his right eye didn't seem to faze him at all. Calmly, carefully, he just completely lay down on her, so that they were cheek to cheek and she basically had her head pinned between his head and his shoulder. She did her best to not flip out.

"You want the kid to bite it?" he whispered. "You want us off your land?"

This was getting ridiculous. Staring up at the crowns of the trees, glimpsing specs of radiant blue sky, she sighed inwardly, and said, "Are those trick questions?"

He chuckled. "If that's what you want, Miss Clearwater, then you and I, for once, want the same thing. Count me in."

She froze. " _What?_ "

"Keep your voice down." He whispered this directly into her ear, his lips brushing her skin, making her whole body break out in gooseflesh. Yikes. "I have, over the past year, but especially during the last four months, made several realisations, and I've come to the conclusion that I need to move on with my life. That child is dangerous. I don't want to be a drone, and I don't want to get my head ripped off by either the Volturi or your wolf friends. I like being undead. I want to stay that way if I can help it."

When he backed off a little again so he could face her, it dawned on her what he was really saying. Her eyes went wide again. It was as if her heart had skipped a beat. "You're immune," she mouthed, not even daring to whisper it.

The tiniest smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Just made use of a natural advantage I have over the others, is all."

Leah had no idea whether he meant his abilities or his blatant psychopathy, but she didn't care. This could be a ruse, even though she didn't think so. Still, being careful was the obvious way to go, here. "You got a plan?" The whole situation was getting so absurdly convoluted, it was almost comical.

"You're not gonna tell me, but I'm smart enough to guess that you contacted the Volturi on Irina's behalf. That little performance of yours earlier was cute, but didn't convince me."

"Right. You're just that awesome." _Asshole_.

He cracked a toothy smile of pure and unadulterated merriment. Human blood from the vein really did it for these wankers, didn't it? He looked like he was high. "They'll be here to kill the child and us. Since you obviously worked out a deal with them, you're gonna include me and whoever is willing to off the brat. After that, I'll walk away and never come back. Simple logic is the best, after all."

She frowned. Had he just quoted _Star Trek_? Never mind that right now, though. "No-one's gonna be willing to off the brat apart from maybe Bella, and you'd leave your family here to die? Your _girlfriend_?"

"These people are not my family, and I am through with being lied to and manipulated." He shrugged. "I'm a vampire, Miss Clearwater. No point pretending otherwise. Now" – He lightened up on all the limb-crushing, even if just a little bit – "do we have an understanding?"

Each man for himself was all these guys' motto, wasn't it? Lordy. Also, if he wasn't being operated by the demon-spawn, that meant he'd just used her imperative to drink humans as an excuse. What a guy. Deal with the devil was her own motto these days, and no mistake. "We do. Now get the fuck off of me, you sadistic psycho."

"Such a pretty girl with such bad manners," he said, rolled off of her, and got to his feet in a flash. "It's a shame, really. You could really use some direction."

She jumped up, tugged down on her sweater, and wiped her face furiously. "Don't ever do that again. I'll kill you next time, and that's a promise."

Infuriatingly, this made him laugh. "Come on, now. Let's go back home and pay our respects to the Borg Queen." He set into motion without waiting for a reply.

After a few seconds, she trudged after him, irritated to the extreme. Not only was the situation FUBAR, but this was the second human-drinking leech to reference a beloved fandom of hers in her face. Nothing was sacred, anymore, was it? Goddamn it. God _damn_. Maybe when this was over, she'd get to kill him, despite everything. She'd be doing humanity a huge favour.

* * *

 **2** **When they stepped into the tacky mansion (calling it a house would only sound faux-humble) together, they walked in on the Cullens yet again sitting around inactively**. Dear God, was this their go-to response to everything? Sit around uselessly and mope? _Do something_ , Leah wanted to scream at them. _Anything! Pluck your thumbs out of your butts and_ do _something!_

Then again, their inaction was a good thing, since it left them ripe for the picking of more active people – actual fighters. There really was a bright side to everything. You just had to look really hard to see it, sometimes. Again, she sighed inwardly, but decided not to snap out of sarcasm mode anymore. Fuck it. Chances were, everyone would double-cross everyone else, anyway, and she'd die within the next three days.

"You weren't actually successful, were you?" Rosalie said. She was sitting on one of the armchairs with the demon-spawn on her lap.

Jacob was right. She really was Barbie, the Queen Bitch from Hell. Good thing he was patrolling the perimeter (or simply trying to fight the imprint, the poor sucker). Otherwise, unholy alliance or no, the leech's condescension might end up being a deal-breaker. It still might, one day – one day in the foreseeable future.

All those present – Clyde and his trophy wife, Barbie and Chucklehead, Wardo and Bella, Twee Twit and Alaska Blonde, not to forget the demon-spawn itself – turned to face Leah almost instantaneously. Had they rehearsed this? Looked like it. It wasn't like they did anything else, apparently.

"No, but I'd like to see you do better," Leah replied sweetly. "In fact, I'd like to see you do anything, Rosalie, apart from carrying the kid around all day and simpering or, alternatively, bitching me and my pack out."

Rosalie only rolled her eyes and exchanged a very obnoxious look with her boyfriend, who shrugged. Big help he was, too.

"It was worth a try," Carlisle said seriously, frowning. He gave Leah an acknowledging little nod. "Thank you, Leah. We appreciate the effort."

"Of course we do," Trophy Wife declared, flash-moved right in front of Leah, and meant to reach out to touch her. Leah's expression must've been particularly uninviting, though, since Esme let her hand hover about two inches away from Leah's shoulder for a couple of seconds, before crossing her arms. Instead, she took a whiff and exchanged an almost imperceptible, obviously irritated look with Jasper, before smiling deferentially at Leah again. "Thank you for being so patient with our shortcomings."

Was she serious? More important: what had she…oh, God, was Leah smelling of vampire now? Christ. "Sure," she said curtly. "Gonna take a shower. Excuse me." Making an effort not to look like she was trying to escape, she headed upstairs, hoping the vamps had got the message – no such luck though. Light, hopping steps followed her to the top of the staircase. She stopped, closed her eyes for a moment, collected herself. Damn it. "What is it, Alice? I really need to-"

"What really happened? Why do you smell like Jasper?"

Not in the mood for playing dumb or indulging any of this crap, Leah turned around and looked down at the tiny little porcelain doll that was the – now power-castrated – precog. "Because he tackled me in the woods. Ask _him_ about the details."

Alice pouted up at her. Man, these creatures' expressions were usually a little weird, but with Twee Twit, it looked artificial; it looked like acting. Everything Alice did left the impression that she had read about natural reactions in a book and was hell-bent on emulating them convincingly. The result could be, well…bizarre, to put it mildly – such as her obsession with clothing and fashion. The media told her that looks were important, for example, and she took that concept to its logical extreme, to the point where it mattered almost as much as life itself. The same thing went for her (inconsistent) animal diet. Alice never came across as someone who gave a damn about preserving life. Instead, she seemed to be under the impression that she was supposed to not drink humans, and therefore didn't do it. It was fashionable.

Seriously, it was as if she knew what motions she had to go through to vaguely resemble a living, breathing person living a regular, normal life, but never asked herself why. This was an empty shell of a woman who did things because she was supposed to, but felt _nothing_.

That would explain her weird faux-fashionista deal, in any case, as well as her incredibly nonchalant reaction to Bella's little killing spree yesterday.

It was Leah's pet theory.

"I can't See anything because of you people!" Alice snapped through gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea how exasperating that is? I didn't even See that he'd come back with red eyes. He killed humans, after years of restraint, and I could do nothing to prevent it because I couldn't _See!_ " The only thing missing was her stomping her tiny little foot on the lush carpeting.

Leah crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "Before blaming me and mine for it, why don't you try that again and include the unholy demon-spawn? With her around, you're just as blind. Also, stop treating your boyfriend like an infant who just needs the gentle touch of a loving woman. He's a grown-ass man and not a little boy. He does what he does because he thinks it's fun. Third, what makes you think I give a hoot about your relationship troubles? Get lost."

She left Alice standing there and marched straight into the big bathroom. The only thing she regretted was not having a mic to drop right now.

* * *

 **3** **"No-one's gonna mention the elephant in the room?"** Edward said, pointing at Jasper, who was still standing by the front door, without even looking at him. "He fed on humans."

"Good on him," Emmett said, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. He was standing behind the armchair she and the child were occupying. "At least he'll be able to think clearly and to fight properly when the dogs come to tear us to pieces."

"We shouldn't abandon our principles just because it would be the easier route to take," Carlisle said, massaging his throat, making a face.

Irina, who hadn't had to fight the urge to kill humans in decades, could hardly keep herself sitting on that stupid couch. As Leah had walked through the door, Irina had hoped to find out if she'd been successful, but it was impossible. The woman was a good actress. She probably excelled at poker. Ever since Irina had stopped drinking human blood, her mind had become too slow for that particular game, which was a shame, but the least of her sacrifices.

Bella, who was sitting to Irina's left, said, "I agree."

"It's easy for you to say that," Rosalie said, giving Bella a pretty black look. "You just gorged on four people yesterday. Let's also not forget the fact that you need about half as much as we do to get to your full strength."

Renesmee, with a very displeased expression on her perfect doll's face, slapped a hand to Rosalie's cheek.

Immediately, Rosalie hugged her tighter, kissed the top of her head, and smiled again. "No, honey. We won't let any of the bad men get close to you, no matter what happens. Of course we'll kill them first. That really goes without saying."

"With Jasper and Bella fuelled up, the rest of us won't need to-"

Again, Renesmee touched Rosalie's face, and the latter said, "We're still vastly outnumbered and outgunned, _Edward_. If we don't do all we can to protect Nessie and we lose…" She trailed off, visibly anguished. Her eyes were completely black and stood in stark contrast to her lily-white skin.

"It's only because we're forced to fight," Jasper piped up, calm and composed and noticeably very much at ease with himself. "We wouldn't be doing it otherwise, of course."

Irina couldn't help but feel a hot stab of jealousy, looking at him like this. He clearly felt great in his skin. His senses were sharp, his intelligence was tuned up, his thirst was quenched. He mastered his body and his mind, owned it, revelled in it. There was nothing as glorious as filling oneself up with living human blood – nothing. Ever. At this point, the pain in her throat was so bad, it was all she could do not to jump up and try to rip his head off for flaunting his satisfaction so smugly in all their faces. She could smell the human blood enhancing the natural scent of him, and it was the most alluring thing she'd smelled ever since talking to Demetri. Not even the traces of Leah's musky wolf-scent lingering on his skin and clothes could mar the appeal. It made her own thirst even worse.

"I agree," she heard herself saying. She and Jasper locked eyes. "If we don't power up, we will lose. It's the only likely outcome, and you all know it."

"I _can't_ ," Carlisle said, grimacing, flinching. He gave Renesmee, who was glaring at him, a truly miserable look. "I'm sorry. Please don't insist. I'll do it if there's no other choice, but if there's any other way…"

Once more, Renesmee flattened her palm against Rosalie's face.

Rosalie calmly looked at Carlisle and said, "We have to do what we can to protect Nessie, but if you are unable to get off your high horse, the rest of us won't be as squeamish. It won't even make a difference if a few of us remain slow and stupid. We need the strongest and most talented to be ready: Jasper, Emmett, Bella, and Edward. Everyone else is allowed to drink whatever they please."

Immediately, Carlisle relaxed. He stood up straight. The grimace of agony melted off his face. "Very well, then. If we can all live with this compromise-"

"It's decided, then," Edward cut in tonelessly. "We'll set out to Seattle in-"

"Not together, we won't," Jasper said, reacting to Edward's scowl with a beatific smile. "Too conspicuous. You go with Emmett and Rose. I'll take Bella and Irina with me." He gave Irina a meaningful look. "That is, if I interpreted your remark correctly."

The pain in Irina's throat was unimaginable. It felt as if her skin were boiling, melting, blistering, sloughing off. She breathed in through her mouth, but even if she couldn't smell Jasper and Bella's scents of life and promise, she could _taste_ them. The images Renesmee had placed in her mind bubbled to the surface: blood, power, strength, joy, clarity, _satisfaction_. God help her.

"You did," she said, her voice hoarse and her tone pained.

He smirked. "Wonderful. Personally, I think it'd be smarter to tackle campers at Mount Olympus rather than traipsing into Seattle, but whatever the majority decides, I'll graciously bow to it. We'll leave immediately, before the lovely Miss Clearwater knows we're gone."

In a split second, Edward was right in front of him, probably wanting to make him back off and failing. "I won't even ask you why you snuck off on your own, killed humans, and came back with Leah, _smelling_ like her. No, I just want to make one thing perfectly clear: _I'm_ looking after _my_ wife."

"Like you looked after her the past three months? Like you looked after her yesterday morning?"

Edward's face was a mask of badly repressed fury. "Don't you dare-"

"He's right, Edward." Everyone's heads snapped around to Bella, who looked down at her hands and then made a visible effort to face her husband. "I need to be strong and clear-headed. I want to live. I need to…to be a real vampire for this, at least until this nightmare is over. I can't control myself, though, and you can't do it, either. I need _him_." She shrugged, helpless. "I guess I'm just asking you not to make this harder than it needs to be."

Edward gave Bella the most wounded look Irina had ever seen him wear, and he was a bit of a complainer on his best day. "As you wish," he said. "Emmett, Rosalie, we'll set out tomorrow morning after Jasper and his women return. If anyone else wants to join, they are welcome to do so." Woodenly, he stomped out of the room and headed upstairs.

Irina couldn't help but feel a little malevolent glee at this, some good and old-fashioned schadenfreude. These pompous morons flaunted their romance as if it were the truest love to ever true love, but in the end, they were down on the ground with all the rest of the flawed, multi-faceted couples. At the same time, she sympathised with Bella and had to congratulate her on standing up to Edward the Moping Bully. Good for her. Her situation was hard enough as it was without him having to add to her misery.

The pain in Irina's throat flared up again. Before she knew it, she was on her feet. "When are we leaving?"

"Whenever you ladies please," Jasper said, chipper, completely unimpressed by Edward's anger and the general tension. He'd consumed living blood. Of course he was euphoric. Of course he was _high_.

"The ladies would like to leave right now," Irina said, pushing thoughts of right and wrong and consequences aside because by God, that thirst that awful thirst if she only drank she'd remember she'd know she'd feel she owed it to him her love the only human part of her she needed must have craved wanted _by God_. She forced herself to focus, to not look at Nessie, to focus all her attention on Bella. "You're joining us?"

"Yes." Jerkily, Bella shot to her feet. No, learning to control one's senses was not exactly a walk in the park. "Let's go, before I start thinking again."

"Oh, no, anything but that," Jasper said, and graciously motioned toward the door. "Ladies first."

* * *

 **4** **Outside, the three of them took a moment before heading off**. Bella had no idea if she felt bad about what she was going to do, because any and all stirrings of her conscience were being drowned out by screaming anticipation. Just thinking about the taste of fresh, warm blood in her mouth made her want to sing and scream and run and break and kill. _God_ , she wanted to kill. This was so wrong. It wasn't going to stop her, though. No, today, she needed to gather her strength. Jasper was right: she wanted to live. She wanted her coven to survive. She didn't want to watch someone tear them limb from limb and set their remains on fire. Even if she didn't place that much value on her own life, simply sitting back and letting them die for her was out of the question.

As a human, she would have convinced herself that she was being utterly selfless and burdening herself with sin and guilt for the sake of others. Now she knew that she was egocentric and terminally afraid of losing not only her own life, but also the only people she had left. That wouldn't be too bad – her fear – if it didn't mean humans would have to lose their lives over it, but it did, and she was still going to kill. At least she was walking into it with open eyes.

There were no easy solutions.

Irina had told her that she needed to be strong, which could only mean one thing: Bella was, of all the vampires here, the only one who could stop Renesmee's influence from spreading. Right now, the girl's power was purely tactile, and a few touches were not enough to wipe all free will away. Bella had observed that continued exposure made the mind-control easier, though, as was evident with Rosalie and Jacob. Who was to say that Renesmee's powers wouldn't grow as she matured? They already had. What if she became a true hive queen, ready and willing and capable of subjugating thousands, millions of people?

Yes, Bella knew that something had to be done, and loath as she was to admit this to herself, it was her responsibility. This was her child. She needed to step up and take action. For that, she needed to be strong. For _that_ , she needed to help defeat the threat of the wolves. Who knew, if the wolves came to attack and realised that it wouldn't be a curb-stomp battle, maybe they'd agree to a compromise.

Bella didn't even know what kind of action she was supposed to take in regard to her daughter, but something had to give, and the problem wouldn't solve itself. She'd worry about that after the werewolf situation had been dealt with. Yes, it was procrastination with maybe a dash of cowardice, but for now, she decided to remind herself of her shortcomings and simply call it a day. She'd have to face her problems anyway, eventually.

As they stood outside, in the cold sunshine, Jasper placed himself in front of Bella and cupped her face, looking her straight in the eye without blinking. "You know what's gonna happen, now, don't you?"

She returned his look impassively, taking in the way his granite skin sparkled, unsure of how she felt about this – about any of it. It would be nice to have a heartbeat to clue her in on how to interpret her emotions accurately, wouldn't it? Like this, she had no idea whether she was nervous or just eager. It felt neither good, nor bad.

"Do what you have to," she said flatly. "We can't afford another melt-down from me."

"No, we can't," he said, the corners of his mouth curving up a little. "Just try to relax. It's so much easier when you're relaxed."

Calmness and contentment washed over her full-force, blending the entire world out for a moment. This was incredible and so much stronger than she remembered it being. Holy crow.

"Can we go, now?" Irina said, crushing her fist to her throat, grimacing. "I don't think I can take it much longer."

"Absolutely, ma'am," Jasper said, and motioned at the direction of the woods with a gracious move of his hand. "After you."

* * *

 **5** **A whole camp full of people**. Three families. How many? Bella didn't count. At least fifteen. So many beating hearts. So many arteries. So much _blood_. Gone in under five minutes. The three vampires descended on them like a hurricane. Screaming. Running. Fighting. None of it mattered. Killing them was as easy as falling. Drinking them…

…oh, God. Oh, how to describe it? No words. There were no words. Too many words. None of them. All of them. So good, so fulfilling exciting quenching quieting ecstatic joyful exhilarating alive so satisfying so perfect so _high_ feeling being power strength life _oh God_.

As Bella and Irina stood by, Jasper burned the remains of the drained humans, along with their camp. Dazed, her head spinning, her body feeling light and agile and complete and _sated_ , Bella watched him move with incredible speed and well-practiced precision. There was something amazingly graceful about this horrible spectacle. Fire started crackling, licking at the corpses, the tents, the gear. It shone brightly, painting Jasper's face in stark shadows and red contrasts. He looked…

…beautiful.

To her eyes, his skin wasn't grainy and greyish and full of disgusting veins anymore; it was snow-white, immaculate, smooth, flawless. Sunshine breaking through the thick tree branches painted him in an otherworldly, mesmerising shower of radiance. His relatively short hair wasn't a mess of yellowish ant-legs anymore, but artfully tousled, silky, and honey-blond. His eyes were huge and dark-red. He smelled sweet and fragrant and of exotic spices – like heaven. It was even possible for her to ignore the stench of burning flesh as she concentrated on seeing him, breathing in the scent of him. Like this, he was perfect.

He finished his work, dashed over to the two women, and grinned broadly. "We should go," he said, and that weird, metallic, screechy tinge all the vampire voices had? It was _gone_.

This was what Bella remembered vampires sounding like…before. She didn't need a heartbeat. She didn't need adrenaline. She didn't need human hormones. No, her entire body was drowned in exhilarated joy, in peace, in all-encompassing gratification and pure, unadulterated happiness. Everything was clear and sharp and in high-definition. She could focus and un-focus her vision as she pleased, see what she wanted to see, deliberately ignore what she cared nothing for. By God, this was the answer to _everything_. It was dizzying, yet brought her clarity. It was the best feeling in the entire world. Nothing could come close to this – nothing.

She reached out, in full control of her motor functions, and touched the side of his face with her fingertips. His skin felt warm and soft. "Incredible," she said, sounding like herself, _feeling_ like herself.

His grin broadened. "Yes," he said, took her hand, and held it up to her eyes. "Look."

Blinking in wonder, Bella did. She raised both hands to her face, marvelled at how perfect they were, how unearthly flawless and immaculate, at how they sparkled in the sunlight. "My God." She turned to look at Irina, who was still standing there in complete silence, immobile. Irina's hair was a cascade of deeply golden locks. Her countenance, eerily symmetrical or not, was a thing of breath-taking beauty. Even her red eyes were shimmering rubies in her pale face. "My God."

"I don't think He had anything to do with any of this or any of us, but it doesn't matter," Jasper said, taking her hands again. "Now you see."

"Yes," she whispered, and didn't stop a huge smile from spreading across her features. Breathing in, she could differentiate a thousand scents all around her clearly, with no confusion. It was so beautiful. She laughed, unable and unwilling to help it. "You smell nice – both of you."

"We all do," he said, giving her hands a little squeeze. "I know how overwhelming this is for a first-timer – and no, your first ever feed doesn't really do this justice – but we need to leave. I'm pretty positive the forest won't catch on fire, but the authorities will see the smoke and investigate. We can't be anywhere near this place when they do."

Snapping out of the haze, Irina nodded. "Agreed. Let's go."

They set into motion.

* * *

 **6** **Their senses were so sharp and clear, all of them smelled the werewolves at about the same time.** They were still about two miles from the Cullen house.

"Can we outrun them?" Running and talking at the same time posed no problems. It was the first time Bella didn't just crash through the forest like a bulldozer, but with sharp and effortless precision. It was _glorious_.

"No," Irina said from behind her. "They're faster."

It was hard to believe. Still, the three of them stopped and faced outside, each looking in a different direction.

"How many?" Bella said, and took a deep breath. "Two?"

"Well done," Jasper said cheerfully. "Yes. Two."

"Keep calm," Irina said. "There's no need for violence."

"Oh, I don't know about that." The moment Jasper said this, two huge lupine forms came crashing through the trees, right ahead of Bella – the direction of the Cullen house.

One of the wolves had grey fur and blackish spots on his back. The other was darker and even bigger. Bella remembered seeing them before, interacting with them. Handsome, youthful faces and light-hearted, friendly attitudes surfaced from the depths of her memories – names, too: Embry Call and Jared Cameron. She'd met them several times. They'd been nice to her.

"We didn't hunt in your territory," Bella said, still marvelling at how much she recognised the sound of her own voice. What a relief this was! "Let us pass."

"Do it," Jasper said, stepping up to Bella, balling his hands into fists, "or die."

Both wolves bared their teeth. Their muscles were visibly coiled. They growled lowly.

"Don't do this," Irina said, flanking Bella's other side.

"They killed Laurent, Irina," Jasper said, briefly glancing at her, his teeth bared in a contemptuous and, at the same time, strangely gleeful leer. "They will try to kill us. Do you really want to sit back and let them tear you apart? Have you grown this…soft?"

"Go to hell," Irina whispered, her eyes trained on the wolves. "Attack us and you die. This isn't a threat; it's a fact. You cannot defeat us – not like this."

Growling, their hackles on end, the wolves leapt.

Bella dodged Jared at the last second, crashing into the earth. Both Irina and Jasper stood their ground. Irina jumped on Jared's back, hugged her arms and legs around him, squeezed, buried her face in his fur. He howled loudly and went down.

Jasper nimbly side-stepped Embry, spun around, kicked him in the snout, sent him flying, bounded after him, dodged his snapping jaws, stabbed a finger into his eye. Embry yowled and tried to jump him, but against a battle-hardened vampire with the blood of at least five humans fresh in his body, the young wolf had little chance.

Jared buckled. Irina lost her grip and went down. Her face was covered in blood. Her fangs were out. She was growling. Immediately, she scrambled to her feet and jumped as Jared tried to bite her mid-section. He hit her with his front paw. She crashed into a big cedar, got on all fours, leapt on top of him.

Bella just sat on the earth, wide-eyed and unable to believe that any of this was actually happening, that these boys she'd been fond of were battling her own people to the death. She watched Jasper ram his body against Embry's side, kicking him hard in the stomach, sending him crashing into the trees. He tackled Embry, sank his teeth into the boy's throat, put his arms around his neck, and crushed him. There was a sickening crunch. Embry's body flopped lifelessly to the floor. Jasper got up to his feet and spat.

"One down," he said, dashing over to Jared and Irina.

With something that was both a groan and a cry, she rolled on her back, taking Jared with her. Jasper didn't hesitate. He pushed himself off the ground, landed on top of the huge wolf, grabbed his head, and broke his neck, before kicking the corpse off Irina. She gladly took the hand he offered and let him pull her to her feet.

" _Damn it_ ," she cried out, grimaced, and spat on the earth just like Jasper had. "Damn it."

"It's disgusting, isn't it?"

Irina shook back her unkempt mane of hair, wiped her mouth, tucked down on her shirt, and glowered at him. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Oh, I know it," he said, running his fingers through his own messy hair and then ambling over to Bella. "Enjoy the show?"

She stared up at him, blinking, and tried hard to convince herself that this had not really happened. "They're dead," she whispered. "They're gone. You killed them. _We_ killed them."

"You actually just sat on your ass and watched, if it makes you feel any better," he said, grabbed her by the armpits, and hauled her to her feet. "We got to go now, before more of these suicidal idiots pop up and test my patience."

"Or more than two rather inexperienced boys come along and rip us to shreds," Irina said, "which is pretty likely."

Bella just kept on staring dumbly at Jasper for a few seconds. They were dead. Embry and Jared, Jacob's friends (one of them possibly even Jacob's _brother_ ), his former pack members, were dead. Jasper had snapped their necks. They were gone. It was over. "This is the point of no return."

"Actually, you ripping through those four campers yesterday was the point of no return, but let's not nit-pick," he said, wearing the most elated smile on his blood-smeared face. His hair was painted red, too. It looked like he was donning some kind of bizarre war-paint. There was nothing even remotely human about him. "Sweetheart, we got to go. Do you hear me?" When she found it impossible to answer, to even properly gather her thoughts, he crushed her face between his hands and slammed her into the nearest tree, basically pushing himself against her, blocking out the rest of the world. " _Do you hear me? Focus!_ "

"Yes," she whispered, grabbing his jacket with both hands and not even realising it. "I hear you."

"Then stop flouncing and _come with me_." Obviously not expecting too much from her, he took her hand and set into motion. Irina followed them closely. They didn't even bother trying to hide the bodies; it would be utterly pointless.

This was it. No matter what might have happened before, there was simply no way that Sam would now not want to kill every Cullen in existence. There was no turning back. The only way out was through.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

 **1** **It wasn't like a slap to the face**. It wasn't even a punch in the stomach. No. Nothing dramatic, actually. It was more like…how to describe this? Someone pulled the plug and drained her? Her heart liquefied and slowly dripped into her abdominal cavity? All the warmth got sucked out of the world? As Creepula and Alaska Blonde explained what had happened, Leah just sat there on that hideous monster of a sofa, staring blankly at their blood-smeared faces.

Embry's blood.

Jared's blood.

She'd had to sit down, because her legs had turned to rubber. The leeches who'd done this were right in front of her, their fair hair caked in red, their faces smeared, their clothes, their hands. It was all over them. They'd killed more than ten people, and now…

Embry. Jared.

They were dead. Gone. Erased from this planet. Everything they could have accomplished, every life they could have touched, every difference they could have made – it was all gone. Wiped out. Destroyed.

Forever.

Before her mind's eye, she saw them, their youthful, smiling faces. She heard their cocky voices. She watched them phase into big, clumsy wolves and playfully rough each other up. She heard them in her mind, as they all shared each other's thoughts and emotions.

They were dead. They'd been stupid enough to attack three vampires that had just gorged themselves on human blood, one of them being a literal killing machine. Jasper had snapped their necks and left their bodies in the woods to rot. They'd just been boys, kids, _children_. They'd had their whole lives ahead of them, and now they were gone, broken, thrown away like garbage. A few months ago, everything had been fine. Now, the whole world was in shambles. Yes, Leah had known that there was the distinct possibility of a fight ensuing wherein some of her people might get killed, but this…nothing could prepare her for this, for this hollowness, this black void she was caught in – all for the sake of protecting a half-vampire baby. What a fucking hilarious joke of cosmic proportions.

"Leah?"

" _What?_ " She gave Esme, who was standing right next to her, a withering look. "Do I have something on my face?"

Everyone was staring at her. What was wrong with these assholes?

"You're crying," Esme said gently.

Oh. Leah touched the skin under her eyes with her fingertips. Tears. Yeah. That would explain the knot in her throat. She scoffed and shook her head. "Someone has to," she said, and pushed herself up to her feet, not even knowing if her legs would be able to carry her weight. They were. They always were. "I'm going out to see the boys, and you are not gonna stop me or follow me," she said, her voice monotonous, and slowly walked out of that wretched place.

As she went past the line of trees and into the forest, she reached into her jeans' pocket and pulled out Irina's phone. No more werewolves would die. No, she would see to it that her people would suffer no more losses on behalf of the goddamn Cullens. She called the number in question. This time, it only rang once.

" _Leah? What's the matter?_ "

"They killed two of my friends," she whispered, leaning against a tree and covering her eyes with her free hand. "Two little boys who were stupid enough to go against a freshly refuelled Jasper Whitlock. All that bastard needed was an excuse to go on a killing spree, and Jared and Embry gave him the perfect one. They're dead. He snapped their necks. They're gone. They were alive an hour ago, and now they're just _gone_." Wasn't it sad that a people-eating vampire with a British accent she'd only just met was the only person she could talk to honestly, right now? Yes. Yes, it fucking was.

A little silence ensued.

Finally, he said, " _I'm sorry_ ," quietly, guardedly.

"Are you?" Fresh tears squeezed through her lashes and tumbled down her prominent cheekbones. Even though she was sniffling, she had to chuckle wryly. "Whatever. Listen, I'm calling you because our little plans just got thrown out the window. Sam's gonna find out, and tomorrow at dawn, he'll get every wolf here and smite these bastards."

" _Why dawn?_ "

She leaned her head back against the tree and took in a lungful of the lush, green smell of the forest. "Because it'll be dark before he manages to organise an attack that has any chance of succeeding, and attacking in the dark would give the vamps an advantage."

" _Oh_." He sounded genuinely surprised. Maybe werewolves in his part of the world had night-vision. Not that it mattered. " _Where are you?_ "

"On my way to the boys. They just _left_ them there." She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes again, inhaled deeply. "They left them there to rot – Creepula, Spineless Wonder, and your little Slovakian friend."

" _You can't go back to the Cullen house_ ," he said, after mulling it all over for a moment. " _You're too riled up. They might catch you, and you do not want to be caught as an enemy agent whilst the dhampir is around – believe me_."

"What do you suggest I do? Team up with you?"

" _Yes_ ," he said simply, not hesitating. " _That's exactly what I'm suggesting_."

This was so fucked up. "Maybe I should go back to Sam."

" _And get pulled into a fight you know you won't be able to go through with once you telepathically link with your alpha_?"

Standing around and doing nothing was annoying. She pushed herself off the tree and started walking at a brisk pace. "The fact that you know everything is almost as annoying as the fact that you're right," she said, and felt like punching something. "Fine. Have it your way. Where do I go?"

" _Charlie Swan's house_."

"Not such a great idea, pal. The more they get exposed to all this supernatural bullshit, the greater the risk that they'll find out the truth. I'm pretty sure you don't give a damn about them, but I care about every human life, and I won't let you just dismiss them as collateral damage, you hear me? I won't."

" _We'll be careful – I promise. You should be, too. Come here immediately. Don't stop by the co…I mean, your friends_."

Her stomach lurched. More tears threatened to burst through the dam. She bit them back furiously. "I _have_ to."

" _No, Leah_ ," he said with quiet insistence. The obvious compassion in his voice (didn't even matter if it was an act or not) was almost enough to break her walls. " _It's too dangerous and you know it. Please don't do something rash. Keep your head. I assume you want to prevent further Quileute fatalities_?"

Through clenched teeth, she said, "You assume correctly." This guy was a bit of a know-it-all, wasn't he? Not to mention a smart-ass. The worst part really was that again, he was right.

" _If you get caught by either side, you will be in grave danger. You'll also likely compromise the plan. My way prevents more wolves from dying. Please be smart about this_. _You have absolutely no reason to believe me, but I want to prevent loss of life, as well._ "

The urge to just smash the phone against the nearest tree and scream in frustration almost overwhelmed her. "Fine. I'm coming to you."

" _Excellent. Do you want me to meet you halfway_?"

She shook her head, feeling silly because he could obviously not see this. "Absolutely not. Just…stay where you are. I'll be there in no time." Without waiting for a reply, she disconnected the call and stuffed the phone into her pocket again, before taking off her clothes and phasing. There was no getting away from this awful house and these awful people quickly enough.

* * *

 **2** **Bella didn't stay for the big debrief**. She immediately headed upstairs, threw her bloody clothes on the tiles, and got under the shower. Her skin, her hair, her entire body was sticky with blood. She was reeling from all the things that had happened this afternoon. Being responsible for those four dead campers had nearly caused her to snap. Now, though, with even more blood on her hands (oh, God, glorious warm _living blood_ ), she felt fine. No, better than fine – she felt at peace. Her body was working perfectly. Her senses were so sharp, it was a joy to look at her surroundings, to listen to the world, to breathe in the scent of everything. Not ever, in all her life – human or vampire – had she ever felt this thoroughly satisfied.

There was a metaphor somewhere in there she didn't care much about.

Inadvertently, the image of Jasper getting rid of the drained bodies popped up before her mind's eye, fresh and clear and in high definition. She'd never seen anything like this, like him. It was the blood, of course, but still. After three months of blindness, after the shock of her first vampiric sight, contemplating a thing of pure beauty was overwhelming. Watching him snap those werewolves' necks had been impressive, too. Oh, had that been impressive.

Hot water thundered down on her. She just stood there, revelling in the sensation, not breathing, not moving, eyes closed. God, she had been so utterly _useless_ during that short fight. Useless. Paralysed. What good did her new-born strength do if all she managed was to sit there, too stunned to even blink? Had she been unwilling to do something because the other two vampires were already handling it? Had it been because she'd known those kids? Was she only a coward? Maybe all of the above. As a human, she'd never questioned herself like this, but her new existence left her little choice but to constantly ask questions. She was a murderer. She was a monster. Why should she care about anything? _Did_ she even care? Did this high she was riding make it impossible for her to feel human, to even try it?

She turned off the water, grabbed the big, fluffy towel from the rack right outside the huge stall, wrapped herself in it, and stepped out to find her partner in crime (brother-in-law) standing in the doorframe, leaning sideways against it. "Jasper."

He was clean. His hair was wet. "Feeling better?"

"Yes. I shouldn't, but yes."

"No remorse?"

She shook her head. "This is all so strange to me. I feel… _more_ , but I can't bring myself to feel bad, to actually feel bad about what I've done. I know that I should, but I can't. It's all so strange. I don't even know how to explain this."

"You got a better grasp on yourself now, and you don't want to feel bad," he said, smiling. "It may not be pretty, but it is simple. So" – He ambled inside the bathroom, hands stuffed in the pockets of his clean cargo trousers – "now that you got over the shock of two of our enemies croaking it, maybe you won't freeze tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She was aware that she was dripping water all over the place, but didn't care. Caring about anything but the instant gratification of her base impulses seemed like science fiction to her, now. "Oh. Sam."

"Oh, yes, Sam. This is a good-news-bad-news kind of situation: on one hand, this party's about to get started, I am prepared, and two of our opponents have been removed from the equation. On the other hand, only three of us are fuelled up on living human blood. The rest, except for Carlisle, will drink the stuff from the bag."

"But…weren't Edward and the others going to-"

"Too risky. No. We'll have to deal with all this crap the way we are now." He tilted his head slightly to the side, never taking his eyes off of her. His expression was level. "Vampires have an unfortunate tendency to just freeze to the spot when stressed out, but we can't have that, Bella. Tomorrow, you'll have to get off your ass and actually do something. Standing uselessly in the background won't do, unless you want to be responsible for the rest of us dying."

"I already told you that I don't want that," she said. For a moment, they just both stood there staring at each other. When she realised that she was pretty much mesmerised by how pleasant it was to look at his face and not only see the scars, but think them beautiful, she broke off eye-contact and looked down at her feet. At least she couldn't get red in the face anymore. Everything was off by a lightyear, but the weirdest part of it was that it felt really, really great. "I should be feeling bad. I know that in just two days, I've done so many wrong things, so many _evil_ things, that I possibly even kick-started all of our deaths, but…I can't."

"Don't. I don't want you to feel bad about yourself, to ask yourself difficult questions about right and wrong, to wallow in guilt. Where's the fun in that?"

Still scrutinising her naked (smooth, white, flawless) feet, she frowned. "Is that what this is all about? _Fun_?"

"Might as well be. You're a vampire. You're an undead, soulless, reanimated monster who needs living creatures' blood to survive, and who gets a very intense kick out of killing. If you can't have fun with that, what's the point of living at all? And don't start whining about the nature of your existence again. I won't have it."

Despite herself, she had to chortle. "Remember when you tried to eat me during my birthday party?"

"Oh, yes. I could've controlled myself, but I was hungry and didn't really feel like holding back," he said, and slowly walked up to her, so that she could stare at his booted feet instead of her naked ones. "In case you were wondering why I didn't lose it at the ballet studio during the whole James fiasco. You were very appetising, then, too, but there's always a time and a place to, uh…indulge my viler impulses. That was neither."

"My point was actually going to be this: I never thought I'd bond with you, of all people." She made herself raise her head and face him again. The dark-red, deep colour of his eyes was so much more appealing than that weird yellow. "Turns out Edward is right: I really do suck as a vampire. I kill humans left and right, but am completely useless on the battlefield."

"Well, getting rid of two little wolf boys doesn't truly count as a battle," he said, smirking. "Don't feel bad about them, either. They attacked us. It was self-defence."

"You would have killed them anyway." There was no doubt in her voice.

"Well, I _am_ a complete psychopath," he said lightly, and laughed when he saw the dumbstruck expression she must be wearing as she blinked at him dully. "What? How's that even remotely a surprise to you? You knew it already."

"I…" She trailed off and shook her head. "But…didn't you…I mean…when you met Alice…"

"Reform?" he said, arching an eyebrow. "I thought I was meant to, but now I know that I was living a lie, that I was pretending to be something I'm not. A self-fulfilling prophecy does not destiny make, to put it into purple prose. My patience for this malarkey has officially ended." When she just kept gawping at him, at a loss, he said, "Let me show you something," took her by the shoulders, turned her around, and led her to the big medicine cabinet mirror atop one of the white marble sinks. "Look at yourself."

"I can't," she whispered, staring obstinately down into the sink.

"None of that, now. _Look_." When she still didn't, he squeezed her shoulders harshly. "If you're worried about flipping out and whatnot, don't. You won't, and even if you did, you don't stand a chance against me."

With a great deal of hesitation, she raised her face and met her own eyes in her reflection. " _God_."

She was perfect the way nothing in nature was supposed to be: symmetrical, flawless, immaculate. A doll. Not Bella. Not human. Alien. Alien, but not a hideous, revolting monster. She watched her clear red eyes grow wide. The horror she'd felt at not knowing herself? Of having disappeared? Gone. Her body was light as a feather and not a fortress, but a tool. Yes, Bella was dead. This new being was a parody of what she'd used to be, and maybe it was an unholy monstrosity, but that no longer fazed her. All that human blood, it tethered her inside her body, it made her see, hear, comprehend. It made her _feel_. There was no more humanity and probably no more soul, but there was something there beyond an endless nightmare.

Perhaps it _was_ time to give up and just have fun with it. Memories of her parents tried to surface, but she brushed them off almost angrily. No time for that, now. No time. No room. No room for pain and loss and sorrow and guilt.

God, this was more than glorious. It was beyond _orgasmic_.

"She's beautiful," she whispered, scrutinising that heart-shaped, thin, smooth face, the round eyes (no longer almond-shaped, no longer closely set together) and almost straight eyebrows, the high forehead, the plump and dark-red lips, the narrow nose.

"You are," he said, almost smiling, his voice trembling oh so subtly. "The dull little girl you were is gone forever. You're a monster, Bella: strong and fast and deadly and devoid of everything that once made you human. Don't shoot yourself in the foot by forcing yourself to cling to useless notions of morality and guilt. I promise you that you'll enjoy it."

She looked him in the eye through the mirror. "Be good for goodness's sake, my mom always says."

Leaning in, he whispered, "We're so much above that," directly in her ear, barely softening his grip on her shoulders. "You told me you wanted to live. You want us to live. That won't happen if you hamper yourself by insisting that you should feel bad for every drop of spilled blood. Just let go of all that. Be who you are. The time for guilt is gone."

"I feel a lot of things right now, but" – Slowly, she shook her head – "I can't make much sense of any of it. Nothing of what I thought I felt is there, anymore."

"It'll all start making sense very soon," he said, turned her around to face him again, but didn't step back. They were almost nose to chin like this. "You're gonna have to fight tomorrow. You'll kill people – people you know. People you once cared about. Either you do this, or you die. Do you understand that?" He pinched her chin between his index and thumb and forced her to look up into his eyes.

She nodded curtly. "Yes."

He cracked a smile, said, "Good. That's all I wanted to hear," let go of her, and ambled away, leaving her to look after him in silent bewilderment.

* * *

 **3** **Leah knocked on Chief Swan's door feeling like a total doofus, but also strangely light-headed**. That sensation of end-times she'd had only this morning, before the talk with Sam? It was back with a vengeance. Everything was upside-down. The world was about to crack. Something was going to give, and that was a fact. A fairy-tale ending where everyone got exactly what they wanted without having to work for it, without sacrifice, was not in the cards. More likely, this whole disaster would end like Hamlet: everybody died. The end.

The door was opened from the inside. She found herself face to face with Yuppie Vamp.

"Leah! I'm so glad you made it," he said, his voice and expression casual, as if she'd told him she wasn't sure if she'd be able to attend his birthday party. "Come on in. Please."

Warily, she went inside the house and tried not to jump when he closed the door behind her with something of a bang. "Where are Charlie and his ex?"

"Working, trying to find dirt on the Cullens," he said, walked past her taking care not to touch her, and headed toward what she could see was the kitchen. "Please, follow me. I'll make you something to eat. You must be very hungry."

"You're not a mind-reader, are you?" She still followed him, though.

"No, but I suppose that today having played out the way it has, you probably didn't even think about eating." In the kitchen, he motioned to the one of the chairs by the table. "Please, have a seat."

Not even hesitating, anymore, and too detached from herself to be weirded out, she pulled a chair and plopped herself on it. She watched him speculatively look into the refrigerator. "Gonna raid Charlie's food supply?"

"They're letting me stay with them for the nonce, which is very kind of them, so no. I actually went grocery shopping."

The mere notion of a sparklepire trawling the aisles of a supermarket with a shopping cart, checking prices and looking for the best organic potatoes, was so absurd, she couldn't help but giggle. He gave her a confused look, and she shook her head. "Ignore me. I think a fuse blew in my mind. My brain has officially collapsed in on itself."

"Very well," he said, and nodded. "Is there anything you don't eat?"

"No. Dish it up and I'll eat it. It's probably gonna be my last meal, anyway."

"Oh," he said, grabbed some rib-eye steak out of the fridge, and started heating up olive oil in a frying pan. "You mean, once your ex-group catches onto your defection, your alpha will order you to come back?"

"There'll be hell to pay," she said, sounding giddy and dreamy and not at all like herself. Yup, a fuse had very clearly blown. Also, she was light-headed and slightly nauseous. When the smell of sizzling meat hit her nostrils, her stomach grumbled loudly. "If I don't phase, he can't telepathically order me to do anything. If he shows up here, however, and alpha-orders me to my face, I won't be able to resist."

"He won't know you're here, and even if he does find out, he won't make it out of Cullen territory in time." After seasoning the frying meat, he turned around to look at her. A little frown was creasing his forehead. "You're right to be worried, though. Already so much has gone wrong. My people won't be here soon enough."

She rested her elbows on the table-top and her chin on her hands. "Sam's gonna attack them full-force tomorrow morning. He has to. He doesn't know, however, that of all people, Jasper has boosted his talents with a lot of human blood. That creepy fucker's really dangerous, and he loves killing more than anything. Even if they end up taking him out, he'll murder a number of them, first. I can't let that happen, but I don't know what to do to stop it. My hands are tied."

"You can call Mister Uley and ask him to keep to the three-day-schedule, offering our assistance in return for his patience." He turned around to tend to the steaks, again.

"I can do that, but it won't work. He'll be furious, out for revenge, and, well" – She snorted wry laughter – "he fucking hates vampires – all of them. Vampires are the reason he turned into a wolf, that he imprinted. They're responsible for his entire life being turned on its head. They're responsible for all our lives being upturned, and now they've" – She chewed on the inside of her lower lips and closed her eyes for a few seconds – "now they've killed two of the boys. There's no way Sam will settle for any sort of compromise. Revenge will be the only thing he'll be after, and he knows that this is an iron that has to be struck while hot. The wolves can't afford hesitation."

"Not just them," he said, grabbed a plate, slapped the steaks on it, and handed it to her, along with some cutlery. "Here you go." He pulled up a chair and joined her.

"Thanks." Until now, she hadn't realised how truly ravenous she was. This meat smelled like paradise. Okay, having a yuppie emo-fringe vamp cook for her was all kinds of weird, but what the hell. She dug in. "Mm. This is nice."

A little smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "Thank you." For a few minutes, he just watched her eating. "You're positive it'll come to battle?"

She chewed, swallowed, wiped her mouth with the handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. "Yeah. No way around it. Jared and Embry are…" The words got stuck in her throat. She grabbed the knife and fork tightly, relishing the feeling of the warmed steel in her palms. At least that was tangible and real. Everything else just felt so…she didn't even know. Removed from her – that's what it was. She was removed from it all. "Jared and Embry are dead. He didn't see a way out this morning. Imagine how he'll feel now. I'll call him, but he won't budge. He won't want your help, either. He won't care that you're after the same thing he is. He hates all of your kind, politics be damned."

"Understandable, but regrettable," he said, leaning back in his chair and pulling the sleeves of his sweater and jacket over his hands. "You and I have two options now: we can either sit back and wait, or we can join the battle."

" _We_ ," she echoed pointedly, put her cutlery down, and crossed her arms. "I thought I was gonna cop-buddy comedy with Bella, but it turns out you're the good cop in this ensemble. I was gonna say that stranger things have been known to happen, but that would be a big, fat lie." That put a slight smile on his face, but he said nothing. "Tell you the truth, sunny Jim, I got no idea what to do. I want to stop a battle from happening, because no matter who wins, I lose. It's probably super selfish, but I don't want any of my friends to die. Two already have, and that's more than I can stomach. I don't think I could take it if I lost anyone else."

"We're all selfish, then, if we do anything to help people we love, because we're always trying to avoid our own pain along with theirs," he said, looked at her earnestly for a moment, and then cracked a broad, radiant smile.

She blinked at him. "What's funny about that?"

"Me. I'm funny, or rather silly, going all Obi-Wan Kenobi on you. That just sounded so" – He wrinkled his nose – " _lecturing_. I'm sorry; I have a tendency to be a little scholarly on philosophical issues like love and soul and destiny and everything to do with it."

Before she knew it, she snickered, and said, "Nah, it's fine. You sounded more like you were trying to make me feel better."

"It's the second time today I've made you laugh, too," he said.

For a minute or so, they just sat there in silence, studying each other's expressions.

"How old are you?" she said, at length.

"Mentally? Twelve," he said, deadpan, and then snickered. "Sorry. I'm about a thousand years old. I don't recall the precise date of my death."

Her eyes grew wide. "Wow. Here I am, sitting in a kitchen with a thousand-year-old vampire, cracking _Star Wars_ jokes. This can't be really happening."

"At least now you know why I'm able to produce an edible meal for you: I've had a lot of time to practice my cooking."

"Mm," she made, nodded, and scratched her nose, before facing him again. "Are you sure that your friends aren't gonna make it in time?"

"Yes. They'll be here tomorrow afternoon, if not later. International travel unfortunately takes time."

"And here I was, thinking you people were super-fast."

He made a face. "We're vampires, not X-Men."

She leaned back, looked blankly up at the whitish kitchen ceiling, closed her eyes, and massaged her temples with her fingertips. Her head was aching dully. "This is all so convoluted. I should tell you that our favourite axe-crazy bastard, Jasper the murderous asshole, tackled me in the woods and told me that he wants to play on our – I mean, your team." When she faced Demetri again, she had to snort laughter at the dumbfounded expression on his face. "It's true. There's something about his power or his natural psychopathy or whatever that makes him immune to the demon spawn's quest for world domination. He knows that the Cullen coven is doomed and wants to survive. It's what he told me, at least."

"I…" Demetri trailed off, closed his mouth, opened it again, closed it again, and shrugged. "I did not see that coming, but…all right." He leaned forward a little, squinting. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

Chuckling without a trace of humour, she said, "Positive. Our boy Jasper is a true survivor, one has to give him that."

Clearly not an idiot, he of course picked up on the vitriol in her voice. "You want to kill him."

She straightened her posture, flattened her palms on the table, and returned his look squarely, saying, "I _will_ kill him. You can count on that."

For a moment, he said nothing in reply. At length, though, he got to his feet in a fluid, deliberately slow motion, gathered her plate and cutlery, and to it to the sink to wash it all. "All right. Until then, though, you do realise that we now have an advantage on our side."

" _How_?" She started drumming on the table-top. "Sure, he doesn't have a single fuck to give about any of the Cullens, but he doesn't want to die. He'll fight the wolves and kill as many as he can because that's what he does best: murder people to save his own ass. Sticking with the Cullens is his best bet, because Sam won't care about vampiric allegiances. He'll know that Jasper is the one that killed the boys."

"I had a deal with Mister Black," Demetri said, efficiently washing the plate and cutlery and drying them off. "We wouldn't stand in the way of the pack's justice, and they'd let us take the dhampir. The dynamics have now shifted, but the deal is basically still the same: the wolves get their revenge, we get the child. If the wolves can look past their rage and grief for a moment, they'll understand that if they and my people co-operate fully, then we'll all get what we want. If they don't, more of them will die."

"It depends on Sam and on Jasper, mostly," she said, watching him put the dishes away and mop up spilled water from the kitchen counter by the stainless-steel sink. "Sam would have to agree to work with leeches. Creepula would have to agree to use his powers to calm everyone down instead of egging them on, and frankly, I don't see any of that happening. I mean, I know we all have to work together, and _I_ want to rip that fucker's goddamn head off."

"I can't speak for any of you, but I can tell you this much: vampires have a hard time breaking the habit, and if a vampire is used to killing his way out of a predicament, then that'll be his go-to response," he said, turning around and leaning backwards against the counter, watching her impassively. "There will be a battle, as you said, which means that there will be more bloodshed. We have the opportunity to not only minimise the damage, but to shape the outcome to our advantage. The key to this is getting Sam to hold off his rampage of revenge until my people get here, as well as making use of Jasper's offer to side with us. Your hatred of him is irrelevant right now; we need him to succeed. I need _your_ help. _We_ need his. If we – if _you_ can pull this off, none of your friends will die."

Crossing her arms atop the table, she said, "I'll try. I don't think it will do much good, but I'll try. Maybe I can sell Sam on the point that with three less wolves on his side and a souped-up Jasper on the Cullens', the wolves have no chance of making it out alive."

He arched an eyebrow. "Three?"

She pointed at herself. "I'm out for the count, as much as I hate it. I can't take one step onto the battlefield without allowing Jacob to force me to fight Sam's pack."

A very small, very subtle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I may have a bit of a solution for that."

This time, it was her eyebrows that shot up almost to her hairline. "A _bit_ of a solution?"

"Yes. It's better than nothing, in any case, and it'll enable you to take an active part in solving everyone's problems. You don't strike me as the type of person who stays at home and lets others fight your battles for you."

"I'm not; you're right. I'll be happy to do whatever it takes in order to help, but, uh" – Her throat constricted, and she felt a weird, unpleasant shiver slither down her spine – "something tells me that I'm not gonna like this."

His subtle little smile turned into a certified smirk. "Something tells me that you're absolutely right about that."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

 **1** **The day just sort of petered out unspectacularly**. It shouldn't have. It should have ended in fire and blood and all those melodramatic Richard Wagner-esque scenarios where the old Germanic gods would descend from up high and rain justice upon the mortals who dared upset the natural balance of the world.

Such as a millennial vampire who'd sworn to never again take a life, who'd been so sure that she was in complete mastery of her wants and needs and deepest desires. It turned out that control was just an illusion. All it took was one command by a half-vampire hybrid, and all the hard work, the sacrifice, the pain – none of it mattered anymore.

Irina stood in front of the big mirror in one of the guest bathrooms, staring herself in the eye – those dark-red, inhuman, monstrous eyes. She'd showered thoroughly and changed her clothes, but still, she hadn't felt this removed from humanity in many, many years. Over a century of torment, and here she was, back to square one. The biggest problem was the fact that for the first time in a long time, she felt at home in the fortress that was her body. She was dexterous, nimble, quick, precise. Her thoughts were fast and clear and sharp. Her thirst was sated. She was at peace. Right now, it was very easy to mourn the loss of life, to contemplate the nature of her existence, to consider the possibility that she might deserve death via werewolf justice.

In a few days, though, should she still be alive, the effects of the living human blood would start to wear of, and she would get fidgety. The pain in her throat would start as a pervasive, irritating itch and then get worse by the hour. Her body would feel clunky and foreign to her, and her capacity to think clearly would get dulled. She'd feel queasy, cold, itchy all over. She'd be in pain, and it would only increase more and more and more. Slowly but inexorably, a single thought would take hold of her entire mind: _drink human blood, and this will all go away_.

She had no idea whether she'd be able to make herself stop once she got to that point.

Her thoughts wandered to Demetri, who was undoubtedly around, plotting to rain hellfire on the child and its protectors. Leah was probably with him right now. The other vampires had yet to suspect that something was amiss, but it couldn't be long, now. They'd probably think she'd been caught by Sam Uley or that she'd gone back willingly. Maybe that had happened, but given the fact that she was in possession of Irina's phone and that she'd definitely spoken to Demetri earlier, Irina was pretty sure that the two of them were now plotting all of their deaths together.

In all honesty, she didn't even mind much. Of course she'd fight – she wouldn't have much of a choice – but she knew that after being infected by the dhampir, there could be no hope of salvation. Maybe she didn't even deserve it. It was useless mulling these depressing prospects over, but what else was she to do? This was her life, and it was ending one minute at a time. Over a thousand years of existence, and she was going to end here, in the back of beyond, surrounded by people she despised, spouting pop-culture one-liners in her own mind like a total idiot, feeling sorry for herself. Yes, that was what she was doing: she was staring into her own eyes and feeling terribly sorry for herself. How pathetic. How _repulsive_.

Disgusted with herself and unable to stand the sight of her own face for another moment, she turned away and rushed out of the bathroom. A few seconds later, she was downstairs in the living room, that stupid goddamn living room everyone convened in and stood around in all the time, moping.

"We're all going to die," she heard herself saying, as soon as the thought formed in her head. The Cullens – all of them – turned to look at her simultaneously, which was weirdly comedic, even though it wasn't quite enough to elicit a tired chuckle out of her. "We're all going to die tomorrow, and the best thing you can do is stand around feeling sorry for yourselves? This is incredibly pathetic, even for you lot."

Renesmee, who was on Rosalie's lap on that big armchair, burst into heart-breaking sobs.

Rosalie hugged her tightly to her chest and snarled at Irina. "See what you've done!"

Jacob, who was hovering right behind them, glared at Irina as if that was supposed to be intimidating. " _Shut your mouth!_ "

"Why?" Irina crossed her arms below her chest and raised her eyebrows at him, jutting her chin out. "Not saying it out loud won't make it any less true."

"Oh, relax!" That was Jasper, who'd been standing by one of the back windows with Bella, a few steps away from Edward that might just be a million kilometres. The look he gave Irina was not only unconcerned, but cheery. Maybe this was a façade, a mask he wore. Maybe he really wasn't worried at all. It was impossible to tell. "We're not gonna die. It'll be fine; you'll see. I'm as strong as I was in Mexico, Bella is at her best, you are" – He briefly motioned at Irina with a nod of his head – "very useful. We have Emmett, who doesn't need human blood to be ridiculously strong, Edward, who can help with his cute ability…and let's not forget our trump card."

Flexing his bicep muscles, Jacob spun around to him, jaw set, eyes narrowed. "Don't you _dare_ suggest including Nessie-"

"She touches them, they're ours," Jasper cut in impassively, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugging. "It would end the battle before it begins."

"We are not leading a little girl into a warzone!" Carlisle all but shouted. That was so unusual, everyone just stared at him in baffled astonishment.

"She's not a little girl," Jasper said, deadpan. "With her and my help, we can end this conflict without any further bloodshed. Do you want to win this, or do you want to stand around holding hands and singing anthems of peace and love and all that _shit_?"

"Jasper…" That was Esme.

" _Esme_ ," he returned sharply, and then snickered, shaking his head. "People, this isn't a game. Do you not understand that? We're fighting for our lives, here. I hate to break it to you, but you will have to make uncomfortable choices that'll threaten your moral superiority. Now, I'm the only one here with extensive military experience, and I'm telling you that the girl is our best-"

" _No_ ," Rosalie said, piqued and thin-lipped, shaking her head, holding onto Renesmee – who was hugging her tightly and had buried her little face in the nook of Rosalie's throat – for dear life. "It's too risky. We have to protect her at all cost."

"That makes our job a lot harder," Jasper said, shrugging again, "but all right. I bow to the will of the majority. Just don't come wailing to me when people start dropping like flies."

Bella, who'd been following this exchange blankly, unmoving, now shook her head and ran out of the room and upstairs in the blink of an eye. Everyone just watched her leave in silence but – surprise of surprises – made no move to go after her.

It was Jasper who said, "Are you gonna do something?" to Edward.

Edward glowered at him, turned to stare out the window, and said, "I should go out and try to find out what happened to Leah. If Sam has her, the patrolling wolves' thoughts will give it away."

"I won't say it, but you're welcome to pick the word I have for your attitude right out of my mind."

" _Jasper!_ " Alice and Esme blurted out simultaneously.

" _What_? I don't need to be a telepath to know that you're all thinking the same thing. Irina is right: all we do is stand around and wring our hands like goddamn useless damsels in distress. I'd rather be a little more Scarlett O'Hara and a little less Daisy Buchanan, if you don't mind."

"You… _what_?" Alice said, shaking her head, looking confused. She really hadn't adapted well to not being able to use her power anymore.

"Oh, go read a book instead of _Vanity Fair_ ," Jasper said, waved off, and followed Bella upstairs.

Again, no-one said anything. Again, they all just stayed there, immobile.

Irina sighed inwardly at all this useless stupidity and headed outside to watch the setting sun. A small part of her actually was at peace with the idea that this might in fact be her last one. Who knew, maybe it might even mean something, then.

* * *

 **2 Bella just listened to the others bickering, to the same hollow nonsense going back and forth, until she couldn't take it anymore**. Before she knew it, she was out of the room and halfway up the stairs. She ran down the corridor and into Edward's (hers?) room, barely stopped in time by the big panorama window, leaned her forehead and palms against the glass, and closed her eyes. There was no thumping of her heart, no elevated pulse, no stomach cramping breath hitching teeth clenching face flushing nothing nothing _nothing_. This body was a prop, and yet, for all the lack of human physical responses, she felt like screaming. Maybe it would help if she were able to cry.

What was even happening, here? Transformation, pain, alien body, thirst, murder, war, death: that was what the world, what her world had been reduced to. Was her existence as a vampire meant to be this terrible, this short?

This was not what she'd signed up for.

"I had something very different in mind when I decided to become… _this_ ," she whispered, when she heard Jasper slowly walking into the room.

"Of course you did. I bet you never thought you and I would become friends, either. Isn't that right?"

"I don't remember," she said, listening to him approach her, knowing beforehand that he would place his hands on her shoulders because she could feel the air being displaced by the movement of his palms. It was amazing what a difference fresh human blood from the vein made – truly amazing. "All I know is that I don't want to die - die again, I mean. Last time, I had a safety net. The vampire venom? I knew that I was not gonna die – not really. I knew that I was gonna change, but that I would still get to stay here and frolic around like a right idiot." A little silence ensued. Finally, she added, "Now, when I go, I'll be _gone_."

"Yes, you will," he said, almost directly into her ear, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"You really believe that?" Her voice was a dull, deadpan monotone, but unlike before, she didn't really care anymore. "You really believe that when a vampire gets killed, that they just cease to exist?"

"Yes, ma'am, I most certainly do," he said, using the tone of voice one might speak in when commenting on the weather. "You see, you did die after giving birth. If you ever had a soul, it's gone. It moved on when your human body perished. This is all that's left. That's why it doesn't matter if you murder and plunder and torture, if that makes you feel something – if it makes you feel _alive_. This existence is the only thing you have, and there is no-one here to judge you but you. When you die, you're gone. There's nothing waiting for you. There is, effectively, no 'other side' for vampires. So, my advice would be this: enjoy yourself, sweetheart, in any way you can, because nothing lasts forever – not even us."

Bella let this little speech sink in for a moment, before opening her mouth to say something in reply. She didn't get that chance, though.

"How _dare_ you sell her that tripe?"

Both Bella and Jasper spun around to see a very livid Edward standing in the doorframe, glaring, hands balled into fists.

"Isn't it what you believe?" Jasper said, completely unimpressed, by the looks of it. Judging by Edward's glower, it wasn't just a masquerade, either, this nonchalant and callous attitude. "That we're soulless monsters? That if anything is waiting at all after we crumble into dust, it's eternal damnation or whatever you want to call it?"

That rang a bell. She remembered snippets of conversations her human self – not her, never her – had had with Edward, wherein he'd explained that transforming someone into a vampire meant killing their soul, meant condemning them to a terrible, unholy, cursed existence. Well, Bella couldn't really find it in herself to disagree with that assessment anymore. She was a monster. She was a plague upon the Earth – a blight that brought nothing except pain and torment and death. She was as far removed from divinity as anything could be. In Edward's face, she could see that he knew this.

"And yet, you still turned me," she said tonelessly. "You didn't allow me to die and pass on to whatever afterlife there may or may not be. You made me into this thing that I am. You didn't _care_." Her eyes darted to Jasper, who was to her right, and back to Edward.

" _You_ wanted this," Edward said quietly, jabbing his right index finger in her direction. He was trembling slightly, as if barely holding back a terrible tidal wave of rage. "You begged me to turn you – _begged_ me."

"I didn't know," she returned calmly, not having to make any effort to keep her composure at all, "but you did. You knew what it meant to be this. You didn't care enough about me to stop me from throwing my life away."

Edward's mouth dropped open. For a moment, he just stared at her. Then, he pressed his lips tightly together and glared at Jasper, who was watching the scene unfold as if the only thing missing for his complete enjoyment was a bag of popcorn. "Would you please give me and my wife some privacy?"

After exchanging a little look with Bella – and she was pretty sure he only did that to rile Edward up – Jasper said, "Of course," and lazily ambled out of the room.

" _Say it_ ," Edward spat at Bella, and kicked the door closed so violently, it shook and groaned in its frame. "Go on, tell me how this is _all my fault!_ "

"Don't yell at me," she said, tilting her head slightly to the side and scrutinising him, cool and utterly unperturbed. "I didn't say that it was all your fault. You are partially to blame, yes, but that's not what I was going for."

He crossed his arms and frowned at her. "What _were_ you going for, then?"

"That you don't know me," she said. It should be hurting and hurting a lot, finally voicing that suspicion, allowing it to become a full-blown realisation, but…it didn't. "I don't know you, either. I head-butted my way into this mess because I wanted to be beautiful and young and rich forever, and you were my golden ticket for that. I know that now. I understand myself so much better after going through the absolute horror that was my transformation, that was learning how to use this new body of mine. The question is: do you understand the truth, Edward?"

In a flash, he was right in front of her, grabbing her shoulders, staring down into her eyes as if willing her to melt in his arms or something of the sort. She vaguely remembered being dazzled by his otherworldly beauty and the sweet scent of his skin, but now, as a vampire, she saw things differently. Whether this was good or bad didn't even matter. She wasn't Bella Swan anymore and she probably wasn't even alive.

Right now, she just _was_.

"That's not true," he said lowly, as if replying to her thoughts, even though she knew that he couldn't hear her internal monologues. "I do know you, and you know me. You're just confused. We love each other, remember? We went through hell to find each other. It was like finding the one missing piece to our lives' puzzle. Our fates are intertwined forever. We are meant to be."

"That sounds like something straight out of Renée's romance novels," she said, her voice toneless and robotic, and looked unflinchingly up into his eyes. "We _don't_ know each other, Edward – we really don't. I don't even know myself. How can I expect _you_ to? When we declared that we needed to be together, we'd spent a total sum of a few hours in each other's company, most of it being pretty unpleasant. Most of the time we then shared, you pushed me around and stalked me and forced me to do what you wanted and stay where you told me to. I, in turn, manipulated you and-"

" _Bella_ ," he cut in, briefly breaking eye-contact, smiling, indulgently shaking his head. "Please, don't be absurd, love. You always get worked up and ready to fight about every little perceived injustice-"

"No, I don't. I actually-"

"- like a ferocious little tiger kitten."

"Tiger… _what_?" She squinted up at him. "Did you just condescend to me and downplay my anger at your frankly quite appalling behaviour? Did that really just happen?"

"I know you. I _love_ you. I wanted to die when I thought that I'd lost you."

"Which was very melodramatic, granted, but by leaving me here, you kind of put me in a lot of danger in the first place," she returned flatly. "Never mind that, though. You're telling me that you love me. Why?"

He blinked in confusion. There sure as hell wasn't any physical need for that hollow gesture, and Bella was so tired, so sick and tired of hollow gestures.

"I'm sorry, what?" he said.

She shrugged. "It's a simple enough question. Why do you love me? What is it about me that makes me special? That made you think 'it's her, and no-one else will ever do', after all those years you managed to be single just fine?"

After letting go of her shoulders and crossing his arms again, he said, "Well, first of all, I can't read your mind," taking a little step back.

Glad of the slightly bigger distance, she said, "That was the initial allure. I get that; I do. But that's not love. What do you love about _me_?"

A hint of irritation crossed his symmetrical features. "I don't…"

Old Bella, human Bella would have rolled her eyes. Vampire Bella, however, just kept looking at him impassively. "Tell me three things that are loveable about me, that make me special to you – only three things."

"I…" He trailed off, frowned, shook his head, took a deep and useless breath. "You're very smart-"

"Generic and not even true. Having twenty-twenty hindsight, I can pretty much tell you that I'm rock-stupid. Next?"

He took another little step back, but kept frowning at her. "You're kind and patient and selfless."

"I'm not. Now that I have perfect control over my mental faculties, I have to admit to myself that I was a horrible daughter and a horrible friend who did nothing but manipulate people to my own advantage and judge everyone around me. Next?" She kept her eyes trained on him, unflinching.

"You're very literate. That's a fact."

"It is? What do I read? And name-dropping some generic classics doesn't count. I mean, do I curl up in an armchair with a nice book just for fun? Do I drink a cup of tea or hot chocolate when I'm at it, or whatever? What do I do _for fun_? Do you know the answer to any of that? Because I don't. I don't remember anything. To be perfectly honest, the suspicion has dawned on me that I didn't have any life outside of wanting to be pretty and rich forever."

"That's…no. No!" He raised his hands defensively and shook his head with vehemence. "Bella, you're panicking again. All of those memories will come back, and we-"

"But that's the thing, Edward: I don't think there is anything that _can_ come back. I don't think I ever used my time to develop any hobbies, any goals, any personality. I just latched onto you because I was horribly shallow. Look at me: I'm a monster. There is nothing human left in me anymore. I might as well not pretend, because it's all gone – forever.

"I threw away all that I had to become a god-forsaken parasite who eats human beings. I didn't know what it would be like, and I wouldn't have agreed to it if I had, but I was perfectly fine with the concept of being stuck in killer-rage mode for at least a year. I was fine with the idea that I might murder people out of thirst for their blood. I thought it would be okay to never see my parents again. I was willing to accept all that because I thought the payoff would be worth it – being pretty and young and obscenely rich for all of eternity. That's not very smart or selfless or kind, is it? Did you feel kind or selfless or intelligent at all after being turned? After _dying_? Were you okay with waking up in this alien monstrosity that you call your body and finding nothing left of the person you'd once been? _Really_?"

Wow. That had been a speech and a half. Truth be told, she hadn't even known that she was going to say those things before they came tumbling out of her mouth. How peculiar. How _bitter_.

"So…" Edward said, after a really awkward silence that couldn't have lasted more than a minute, but felt like a century, "…are you telling me that you don't love me anymore?"

Human Bella might have thrown her arms up in frustration or groaned or buried her face in her hands. Vampire Bella just kept looking at him expressionlessly, unblinking. She only breathed because she thought he deserved an answer to that monumentally stupid question. "Edward," she said deliberately slowly, "I'm now gonna tell you the things about you that I find loveable, that make you stand out – as a person – from the crowd, that make you matter so much to me." She waited, but he did, too. "Nothing."

He took another step backwards. "What?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. I don't know you. I don't know what you do for fun, except stalking, perhaps. I don't know any goals and compelling needs you might have that are unique to you, anything other than generic nonsense that can be said about basically anyone. You are a murderous, judgmental racist who thinks the world revolves around you and who manipulates everyone to dance to your tune. When I needed you, you bailed."

"I tried to help you, but you didn't want-"

"No. You yelled at me and then let Jacob, who is imprinted on someone else, do all the hard work. He made it possible for me to function, and then it was Jasper who taught me to be a vampire."

After just staring at her for a moment, his expression mirroring the utter incredulity he must be feeling, he barked humourless laughter and threw his hands up. "Oh, that's just lovely! Why don't you just come out and say it? You only needed me to turn you, and now that you're turned, you got Jacob for your friendly needs and Jasper _for everything else!_ " A split second later, he was right in front of her again, towering over her, glaring down at her like he meant business.

She didn't budge and returned his look coolly. "I'll just ignore the jab at my two friends and tell you that yes, it's what I've been saying this entire time: I don't know you. You don't know me. We have nothing in common. All we ever did was make each other miserable, manipulate each other, control each other, use each other. We never just sat down somewhere and chatted. The only movie we watched together was _Romeo and Juliet_ , and that was only to hammer some symbolism in that is now lost to me. We didn't even enjoy each other's company – not really. So what is this relationship even built on? Not mutual trust and respect. I used you to get something I thought I wanted. You did the same to me. This isn't love." A little voice inside her head told her that it would be appropriate to reach out and touch his shoulder in a reassuring gesture, but when she tried, he recoiled. "I'm sorry."

His face was a stony mask. "No, you're not," he said, retreating until he'd reached the bedroom door. "I wish I could just run away and never see you again, but there's a battle to be fought tomorrow morning. Perhaps you can make yourself care enough to actually fight for something that isn't yourself."

"Well, that's just unfair," she said, but he'd already left. For a second, she pondered going after him, because it wasn't very productive to have an argument amongst supposed allies right before a great battle for their lives, but she decided not to. She'd said her piece. There was no going back on that one. Even if there was, she didn't want it. She knew that now. Feeling lighter, somehow, she turned to the big window and looked outside at the darkening forest. It was beautiful. Maybe it was the last beautiful thing she'd ever be allowed to witness before the end.

* * *

 **3** **There was no point in delaying the inevitable**. Leah wanted to get the whole unpleasantness over with before Chief Swan and his ex-wife came back home and she needed to explain her presence in his house. Sitting at the kitchen table with Demetri opposite her, watching her, she dug her own phone out of her trouser pocket and called Sam's number. Her heart started beating faster, and she felt a little queasy.

It rang twice.

" _Leah_." Sam's voice was terse, but not hostile.

Yes, she could tell from the way he said her name. They'd known each other so well before this whole imprinting debacle. Oh, well. "I'm not with them anymore," she said. No sense in wasting time with pleasantries.

" _Jacob let you go?_ "

Despite herself, she had to chuckle. "Not really. I managed to get the fuck out of there all by myself. I, uh" – She glanced at Demetri – "I'm not _by_ myself, though. I have help."

Sam hesitated for a couple of seconds. " _Help? What kind of help?_ "

This was so silly. She rolled her eyes at her own awkwardness. "Sam, this is gonna sound really bad to you – _really_ bad – but I need you to listen to me for a moment, okay? I know that you must be fucking furious-"

" _That's an understatement. If you're trying to tell me not to attack the leeches after what they did to our boys, just shove it where the sun don't shine. We're gonna make them pay for what they've done – especially that little fucker Jasper._ "

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose and refrained from sighing in exasperation. She had to admit that in his position, her reaction would probably be identical. "Listen to me, Sam. We can solve this whole predicament to our advantage if you just manage to look beyond your rage."

There was a beat. " _Wait: are you with that leech that had the gall to show up at La Push?_ "

The slightly irritated expression on Demetri's face told her that he was perfectly able to understand every word coming out of Sam's mouth. She said, "Let's cut right to the chase, all right? If you attack the Cullens tomorrow morning, you will be _slaughtered_. They have Jasper, Bella, Edward, Emmett, and-"

" _You're with a vampire right now, and you want me to listen to your tactical advice?_ " Sam laughed bitterly. " _What the hell's wrong with you?_ "

"Sam, we don't have-"

" _They're mind-controlling you, aren't they?_ "

She bristled. "What? _No!_ I-"

" _Tell your new boyfriend that none of us are stupid enough to fall for this shit. He wants the imprintee, he's free to try and get her. We'll be there, doing our duty_."

Slapping a hand to her forehead, she said, "Sam, _come on!_ " through gritted teeth.

" _Goodbye, Leah. I'm sorry about what happened to you, but if you get in the way of our justice, we'll have no choice but to take you out_." Without waiting for a reply, he disconnected the call.

Man, this was stupid! Screaming with frustration, she tossed her phone across the kitchen. It crashed against the wall, cracking one of the white tiles, breaking into several pieces that scattered all over the place. " _Fuck!_ " She jumped up to her feet, kicked her chair, buried her face in her hands, and groaned. After taking about a dozen deep, steadying breaths, she lowered her trembling arms to see Demetri watching her calmly. "I'm not gonna phase; don't worry."

"I'm not worried," he said, his voice level, and slowly shook his head. "Not about you."

"Yeah, tell me about it. That _fucking idiot!_ " She threw a hand up and scoffed. "You know, we're all so firmly entrenched in our positions that all we can see is black and white. Wolves and vamps are natural enemies, right? So it's better to die as a wolf than live as a leech apologist. _For fuck's sake!_ " Feeling suddenly drained, she readjusted her chair and dropped herself on it again. Her hands were cold, clammy, and shaking, whilst her face was burning hot. "And now, I have to explain to Charlie Swan why his kitchen's broken."

"It's not quite that dramatic," he said, still completely composed. "I'll take care of it."

She gave him a withering look. "I am perfectly capable of dealing with my own fuck-ups."

"That doesn't mean you can't allow someone to do something nice for you."

His serenity was maddening all by itself, but she had to admit that it wasn't his fault. Leech or no, all he'd done was be polite and helpful. Right now, they wanted the same thing.

She wasn't a mind-reader, but she was pretty sure that he was telling her the truth. Fury drained out of her like ash out of a broken urn. Her shoulders slumped. She exhaled deeply. "I'm sorry," she said, and tugged down on her old sweater. "This is all just so…I don't know, it's like we're reading lines off a script we're not allowed to deviate from. It's not as if I don't see where Sam's coming from. I don't even think I'd act any different in his position. Thing is, though, I know that a good number of them will die if they attack the Cullens in the morning. Maybe they'll even lose. If they do, what's gonna happen to everyone else in La Push?"

Very carefully, Demetri got up to his feet, walked around the table, stopped next to her, and briefly clapped his hand on her shoulder. "I promise you that I'll make sure your people will be protected."

"How can you promise me that?" she said quietly, looking up into his eyes.

"Trust me," he said, smiling a little. "That's all I ask."

"All you ask, huh? Well, if that's all…"

"You need to trust me, Leah. All I want is to get the dhampir out of the equation and keep our existence a secret from the human population. Protecting your people, allying with you – that's the only logical thing to do, and even if it weren't: I made a promise, and I keep my promises. _Trust_ me."

For another while, she just returned his look, unsure, but then, she nodded. "Fine. You're right: it _is_ the best bet. I'll trust you." She crossed her arms. "What do we do, now?"

"Now, we get you somewhere private so I can get you ready for battle."

She made a face. "Is, uh…that really the only way I can fight tomorrow?"

"You do want to fight, don't you? Or at least show up there and try to keep all of your friends and your brother from dying?"

"Fucking _duh_ , smartass."

"Well, then I'm afraid my way is the only way," he said, holding out a hand. "Come with me if you want to live!"

Snorting laughter and rolling her eyes at the same time, she took his icy-cold hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "God, you're such a nerd."

The corners of his mouth curved up in what looked like a genuinely amused smile. He was much better at this whole human expressions thing as any of the Cullens, hands down. "Proudly so. Now, shall we go?"

"What about Charlie and Renée?"

"I'll leave them a note, tell them that I went to get a replacement tile," he said. "That's easy enough. Don't worry; I'll take care of everything."

"Huh," she said, eyeing him warily. "I must be losing my mind. Just tell me one thing: is it gonna be very horrible, your bit of a solution?" The slightly pained look on his face told her everything she needed to know. She sighed, resigned. "All right, then. Let's get this crappy show on the road – my new life motto."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Dear people, thank you for bearing with me. Life indeed happened, but I'm back now, getting closer to zero hour in this story. In the last chapter, I referenced The Terminator and Fight Club. Hopefully, no other references were missed. For this installment, I decided to make some minor character adjustments regarding Volturi characters. An ancient Roman (Caius, whose name isn't exactly correct, either, but whatever) would not have long hair, and his wife got a new name - an actual ancient Greek name that I researched and that is based in mythology. The thing SMeyer came up with doesn't seem to exist, and I strive to achieve at least a modicum of historical accuracy, fantasy story or no. Anyway, the plot thickens! I hope you enjoy how hopelessly complicated this whole thing has become.**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

 **1** **"There's this self-storage facility in Sequim,"** Leah had told Demetri, as they'd boarded his rental car. "I've been renting a unit there, ever since I came back from college – you know, just lots of crap I don't want to throw away, stuff my family would like to get rid of for my own good."

He'd asked for the address, typed it into the GPS (a hero for the modern age: undead, but willing to ask for directions!), and had pulled out of the parking space. To be fair, he'd offered her the pilot's chair, so to speak, but she'd declined. Too much going through her head, she'd told him. She didn't feel like focussing on traffic, either, and he never got tired. It was a bit of a win-win deal, really.

About five minutes after they'd started driving, she'd dozed off. When she came to, it was getting dark. Yawning, she stretched, and said, "How long have I been out?"

He cast her a quick, sideways look. "An hour. We should be there in about thirty minutes. You can go back to sleep."

"No, thanks, I'm good," she said, running her fingers through her hair, trying to sort it out. "This has got to be the most bizarre day of my entire life."

"More bizarre than the day you found out you were a werewolf?" Like the good preppy boy he was, he kept his eyes on the road. There was a decent amount of traffic, but nothing overwhelming. The fine drizzle of earlier had turned into a verifiable downpour, however. Well, it wasn't as if he had to deal with limited visibility problems.

"Strangely enough, yeah," she said, tugged down on her sweater, leaned her head back, and started drumming on her jeans-clad thighs with her fingertips. "Being a shape-shifting, supernatural monster whose sole reason for being is killing vampires doesn't shock me as much as playing dynamic duo with one of the people I'm supposed to be killing."

"Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"I'm sure there's a valuable life-lesson in there, somewhere," she said, and looked out the passenger-side window. "This is all so strange. Tomorrow, I'll be walking onto a battlefield to stop a bunch of supernatural abominations from tearing each other to pieces. It won't work, of course, and I'll be forced to pick a side." She pressed her lips together and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exhaling deeply through her nostrils. "I'll be fighting my pack leader and my own brother. How did that even happen? I know I shouldn't feel sorry for myself, but I can't help but wonder if I shouldn't have stayed away from home."

A little silence ensued, during which all she heard was the sound of the rain pummelling the car, as well as the drone of traffic.

At length, he said, "Why did you do it?"

"What, come back?" She turned to the front again, crossed her arms, and shrugged. "I don't know. Sense of duty, I think. My mom said that the community needs me. I missed everyone, too. Whatever it was, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Then, the vampires happened."

"Yeah. Then, the vampires happened." She snorted derisively and shook her head, gnashing her teeth together. "You know, every time I start feeling sorry for all the dumb bastards being warped by the demon spawn, something reminds me of the fact that it's all their own damn fault. The kid is their fault. Bella's casualties are their fault. Jared and Embry…" She trailed off, shut her eyes, took a deep breath, waited until the pangs in her stomach subsided. "That's on _them_. Hell, all the collateral damage that their mere presence here caused? Us wolfing out? All that imprinting shit? That's all on them. Fuck 'em. I'm done feeling sorry for any of those assholes. They sure as hell don't give a damn about me."

"No, they don't," he said calmly, eyes trained on the road. For a moment, they just drove on in silence, until finally, he briefly glanced at her. "I derive no joy from saying this, but you have got to learn not to empathise with your enemy."

Slowly, she turned to face him, eyebrows raised. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that in many cases, compassion is irrelevant and sometimes even dangerous. Like you said: the Cullens have been infected by the dhampir. They will do everything to protect it, no matter what the consequences. That doesn't just mean they'll fight. It can also mean they'll harp on your sympathy if the child feels it'll get farther by making you feel sorry for it. You know that the child and its keepers must be eliminated; that's a fact. There is no way around that. Now, whether you empathise with their plight or not makes no difference. On the contrary: it can hamper your ability to be objective about the task at hand."

She mulled this over, chewing on the inside of her lower lip for a minute or two. Then, she blew out a heavy breath, rubbed at her eyes, and made herself say, "I know that. I _know_."

"But you think it's easier for us vampires to switch off our emotions, don't you?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

The corners of his mouth curved up in a very subtle smile. "I can see why that would be your impression of how our feelings work, but actually, it's a little more complicated than that. I won't go into any philosophical debates on the merits of vampiric emotions, but you should know this: our most prevalent impulses as humans are heightened to the extreme when we turn, and added to this is our penchant for revenge. That's another reason why you must turn off your empathy tomorrow as well as you're able: if we manage to get our hands on the dhampir, its protectors will go berserk and will not stop until those who dared to harm it are eradicated." He paused for a moment, before saying, "It's a matter of pure survival, Leah."

"Yeah, I get it," she said, drumming on her legs again. "Either we succeed, or everyone dies: you, me, my people."

"I'm sorry to say it, but yes, that is correct."

She cast him another sideways look. "So what's your most prevalent impulse? Being so polite that everyone else feels like a tantruming barbarian around you?"

He frowned, and then laughed – honest to goodness laughed. It was a weirdly refreshing sound. "My mother always used to say that no matter how hard the situation, there's no need to be uncivilised."

This made her snicker. "Funny. My mom has a similar nugget of wisdom she likes throwing at my thick skull when I'm being particularly horrible."

A few seconds went by in silence, until he said, "Do you get along well with her? Your mother?"

Briefly, she considered telling him that this was none of his business, but then she said, "Yes, I do. I'm not always easy to deal with, but she loves me the way I am – best thing that can happen to a person." From the corner of her eye, she saw him nodding curtly, and noticed the rather sombre expression on his face.

"Good. That's really good. I'm happy for you."

What the eff was that all about? Vampire-boy, the family man. Huh. She let her gaze wander to the GPS and saw that they were almost at their destination. "Oh, man, I am so not looking forward to what's about to happen."

"You shouldn't. It won't be at all pleasant," he said, and glanced at her again. "But unless you want to stay out of the fight…"

"I can't. Believe you me, sunny Jim, I've actually been indulging the lowly impulse of looking for a good excuse, but there isn't one. I need to be there and do whatever I can to stop those dunderheads from tearing each other to pieces."

After about half a minute's silence, he said, "I can guarantee that you'll be immune against mind-control of any kind, but I can't guarantee that you'll be able to fight. You may be in too much discomfort."

"By which you mean pain. Please don't sugar-coat this for me. I'm not a delicate little flower who must be shielded from the truth at all costs." Her stomach clenched, as did her jaw. "I can handle pain. Don't you worry about me."

"I already told you: I'm not worried about you. I'm just telling you that it may not be physically possible for you to fight."

"Maybe I won't have to," she said, cringing slightly the moment those words came out of her mouth. They sounded too hollow, even in her own ears.

"Maybe," he echoed, sounding just as convinced. "We'll see. Personally, I hope we can persuade your friends to wait until my friends arrive, so we can attack the Cullens together."

She exhaled deeply and shook her head. "You heard Sam. He won't have any of it."

"We'll see," he said again, eerily calm. Maybe that was just a vampire thing, though, this inability to emote correctly. Who knew. "One step after the other."

"Yeah," she said, "right."

"We're here." He pointed ahead. "Let's not waste any more time."

"Hurray," she muttered, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just wish I couldn't claim I've had worse Saturdays."

* * *

 **2** **The unimaginable had happened: Leah had betrayed her own pack**. Seth and some of the vamps (mostly Meekest Wife Ever, Ken Doll Patriarch, and Twee Twit) believed that she'd been caught by Sam and his lackeys, but Jacob knew better. Okay, he didn't _know_ , exactly, but he was pretty sure. Leah hated the vampires. Leah hated Jacob for making her protect them. Leah hated (his) Nessie. There was no denying any of this, and whether Sam had caught up to her or she had simply split made no never mind to anyone. Leah, that ungrateful harpy, was gone. Jacob would be fuming at it, if the fear that this realisation caused in him didn't drown his fury in a lake of ice-water. Like it or not, Leah Clearwater was not only the smartest of the three leech-friendly wolves, she was also a badass warrior who took shit from no-one. Without her help, their odds were not exactly stellar.

It was dark already, and Bitch Barbie from Hell had tucked sweet little Nessie in, had fed her two blood-bags, kissed her good night, and _finally_ breezed out of the room to go feed. Jacob was now sitting in the horribly tacky, big purple armchair by the window, watching the little girl as she fell asleep, per her request. Her silver wind-chime voice resounded in his head, all small and lost and vulnerable:

 _I'm scared, Jacob. Don't let the bad men hurt me_.

 _I won't_ , he'd told her. _I will never let anyone hurt you. You're my precious little angel. No-one's gonna touch you – not ever. You hear me?_

 _Does Aunt Leah want me dead?_

The question had made his throat clench and his hands ball into fists. Teeth gnashed tightly together, he's said, _Of course not, honey. No-one who knows you can hate you. You're the sweetest thing in the world._

 _Do you swear?_

 _I swear_.

Little later, she'd fallen asleep. Now, she was breathing evenly, lying on her side, her perfect little face relaxed, framed by those dark-brown curls that were too kempt and too flawless to be natural. Nothing about this kid was natural. Nothing about his obsession with her was, either. Bile shot up his throat, and his stomach lurched. He buried his face in his hands. What the fuck had happened to his life? Part of him wished he could join Leah, wherever the hell she was. He didn't want _this_. He didn't want to fight his own people, his friends and relatives, to protect his natural enemies – the reason he had turned into a wolf in the first place. The reason he had _imprinted_.

And now, here he was, a little bit like Wardo during the salad days, watching somebody else sleep.

Good God. _Christ_. This was so, so fucked up.

Feeling sick to his stomach and weirdly contaminated, he pushed himself to his feet and stomped out of the room, down the corridor, downstairs, past the frozen-up Cullens, out into the front yard. The chilly air hit his face like a bucket of cold water, but it felt glorious and natural and clean. He let his arms hang loosely by his sides, closed his eyes, and breathed. Sure, the sickly sweet stench of vampire was everywhere, but he'd gotten pretty much used to that during the past few months. It had become easy to filter that crap out and focus on the rich, dark, green, earthy scents of the forest. Again, the wish to simply run off and leave all of this shit behind stung through his gut, and he trampled it down as best as he could. There was no use to dwell on any of this. It was nothing but a colossal waste of time.

Great, now he was starting to sound all pompous in his own head. Yep, he was _definitely_ spending way too much time with these self-important douches. One particularly sweet vampire smell nearly swamped him before he heard feather-light steps approaching from the house.

A female voice said, "I wouldn't even blame you, Jake. If you ran, I mean."

Bella. Good God, Bella. Again, Jacob's innards churned. He suppressed a sigh. "You know I can't."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes." It was out before he knew it. "No." He opened his eyes and glanced at her, who was now standing to his right, cultivating a respectful distance. Maybe she just didn't like the way he smelled. Given her recent character development, he was rather inclined to believe the latter. "Doesn't matter a lick what I want, though. Don't have any choice. Might as well stop being all emo and shit."

"You're not being emo, Jake," Bella said, her voice showing no emotion whatsoever. It was a little spooky, sure, but not too much; after all, she'd never been one to emote too much on her best (human) days. "Remember my appalling behaviour during Edward's absence? If anything deserves the label 'emo', it's that."

Well, girl had a point. He shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his ragged jeans. "How're things…with you and him, I mean. With you and hubby of the decade."

She mulled this over for a moment, before saying, "I don't know. I think we're separated, but I'm not sure. It probably doesn't matter. The chances of surviving tomorrow's battle aren't particularly good." Good Lord, she sounded like an automaton. Was that what happened if a leech got to drain several human beings in the course of a few days? They morphed into a fucking robot? Screw his 'not too spooky' verdict of a minute ago; this was scary as shit.

Oh yeah, he'd almost managed to forget that she was a psychopathic murderer, now, too. Well, to be fair, she'd always been on the sociopathic side of the spectrum, even as a human. It hadn't mattered. He'd loved her. Part of him still did. Unbidden, his thoughts wandered to Nessie, who was upstairs, sleeping soundly, trusting him with her precious life. Gooseflesh broke out all over his body, and he shuddered. Goddamn.

"Don't knock our chances just yet, Bells," he said, his voice sounding oddly thick, as if he were developing a cold. "We might make it. We got some advantages over Sam's pack."

"All of this," she said, motioning about with a slow wave of her snow-white arm, "it seems like the strangest of dreams to me. I'm not myself, this is not my body, and the world I see looks the same and at the same time completely new. Now a bunch of werewolves wants to rip me apart and burn my remains, and I can't even feel fear. Can you tell me if all of this is really happening? It doesn't feel real to me – none of it."

Jeez. These weren't vampires, these were aliens. It was so, so creepy, watching this hollow Bella-shaped shell move its meat-puppet about, making its mouth move, making inhuman words come out. He'd been creeped out by the leeches before, sure, but it was so much worse seeing one he'd known as a human – someone who'd been very important to him (still kind of was). Were these…these _things_ even people anymore? It was hard to wrap his mind around the mere concept.

Again, his thoughts wandered to Nessie. Again, he felt a little bit queasy. "It's real enough," he said, after noisily clearing his throat. "I don't want to sound like a bad action movie cliché, but shit just got real, Bella. This is happening. You better get your act together. You're filled up to your eyeballs with human blood. We need you."

"I know. I failed miserably earlier, when Jasper and Irina fought the boys. I don't intend to make the same mistake again."

The boys. Embry and Jared. Pain shot through his innards. He trembled, clenched his fists, bit his tongue. Oh, he was itching to storm inside and rip that piece of shit Creepula to ribbons. His lifelong friends were dead for nothing – for doing their goddamn jobs. For doing their duty. For doing what Jacob was supposed to be doing. Fuck it. Fuck this bullshit. He pressed his lips together and breathed in deeply through his nostrils before saying, "Good. It's either us or them. Whatever happens, I won't let anyone get their hands on Nessie."

"I'll fight," Bella said levelly. "I promise."

It wasn't exactly awe-inspiring, this assurance, but it was a take it or leave it situation. "Awesome," he said, listless, and turned to go back inside. It was probably a good idea if he went to check on Nessie again, see that she wasn't having a nightmare. It was even better if he didn't think through the implications of why being even a few feet away from her for a few minutes made him almost unbearably antsy.

* * *

 **3** **"So…what exactly do I have to look forward to?"** Leah said, hands on her hips, trying not to shift her weight from one foot to the other, trying not to come across as too fidgety. She and Demetri were in her storage unit, which wasn't even halfway filled up with all of her (beloved) unnecessary junk. The bare lightbulb above their heads cast a yellow cone of light and stark shadows, highlighting his sharp facial features and ghostly pallor. All of this was so surreal. She was weirdly light-headed, weirdly detached from herself, and yet couldn't stop her heart from racing, her palms from getting sweaty. Still, she stood straight as an arrow, shoulders set, chin jotted forward, eyes narrowed. Of course this was scary as all fallout. That didn't mean she was going to take the path of least resistance; she never had – not once in her life. She wasn't about to start now.

He returned her look impassively for a couple of seconds, before saying, "Pain – a lot of it. I can't describe it to you. Have you ever been bitten by a vampire?" When she woodenly shook her head, he nodded once. "Have you ever burned yourself?"

"Yeah."

Tilting his head slightly to the side, never taking his eyes off her, he said, "It's like that, only in every cell of your body, all at once."

A knot formed in her throat. Her entire body was taut and wired. Her head was aching dully. "Okay," she said, sounding more firm than she would've expected. "How long does it last?"

"Assuming you react the same as the type of werewolf I am familiar with, no more than eight hours," he said, using a tone of voice one might choose when commenting on the weather. Huh. How droll.

After briefly wondering how he'd even come by this kind of practical information (and deciding that she probably wouldn't like the answer), she swallowed dryly and made herself keep eye-contact. "And after that?"

"It will still hurt and you will be weakened, but you will be temporarily immune to any psychic powers such as telepathic coercion – including Jasper Whitlock's."

That was good news. Again, she nodded, this time with more confidence. "What about the demon spawn?"

The tiniest smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "The demon spawn, too."

Even better. Did it even matter how the hell he knew all of this shit, whether he'd read it in an ancient scroll or found out by experimenting on people? Well, yeah, of course it mattered, but it was definitely a concern for another day. "How long does it take until I'm normal again?"

"Three to four days, no longer," he said, watching her serenely, unblinking. There was no need for the human façade here, where it was just the two of them. "There shouldn't be any long-term consequences."

"Shouldn't be," she repeated, chuckled dryly, looked down at her shoes, and shook her head, chewing on her lower lip. "All right, then. Let's do this."

"Very well." In a flash, he was right in front of her. "You won't be able to phase," he said, and placed his stony hands on her upper arms. She could feel the coolness of his skin through the thick fabric of her old and ragged cotton sweater. "But you'll want to."

Irritated, she raised her hands. "Just stop expositing and do it, already, before I change my mind! Jesus."

"Maybe you should change your mind," he said, grave and sombre, clearly meaning it.

She exhaled deeply and shook her head again, said, "I can't," and closed her eyes. "Just get it over with."

"I'm glad that I have earned your trust, Leah," she heard him saying. "It means a lot to me, knowing that such a feat is even possible."

"Trust you," she echoed feebly, and felt his icy-cold lips clamp over her jugular. "This is insane."

Pain seared through her, from her neck to her head to her heart to her limbs, as his fangs ripped into her skin. All thoughts of bravery were lost to her as her entire body erupted into flames. With all that she had, she focussed on why she was going through this hell, and for whom. The same thoughts raced through her head like a mantra, over and over and over again as she burned:

 _For Jared. For Embry. For Seth. For Jacob my mom Emily Paul Quil Billy Claire Collin Brady all of them all of them even for Sam for Sam my people my people for me._

By the skin of her teeth, Leah managed not to scream.

* * *

 **4** **In Volterra, despite what some lobotomised malcontents might claim, existed the only place where vampirism was synonymous with the predicate 'civilised'**. Since the three leaders of the Volturi coven spoke Latin amongst themselves, all of them did – it was the language of civilisation and culture, of prosperity and progress. Caius – once Gaius Octavius Aureus – thoroughly approved. If there was one thing that he valued, that he had always valued, it was enforcing the order of things. Vampires were, by nature (or lack thereof; scholarly opinions on this varied), chaotic and recalcitrant. They required a firm hand, even if many of them did not understand the wisdom of this; it was for their own good.

Making unpopular but wise decisions was a part of this, such as changing the conditions of the deal that Demetri had made with that American werewolf. The boy had promised the wolf that her tribe would be spared if she cooperated with the Volturi, that they would be allowed to live if they did not interfere. It was admirable that Demetri – always the appeaser, always the good-natured justice seeker – had managed to ensure the cooperation of local supernatural creatures, that he had managed to find a compromise. It was a remarkable ability that he had, this innate diplomacy that most of their kind lacked; really, it was. However, in this case, it was woefully misguided. There could be no compromise with werewolves. There must not be. Caius didn't care that they were not the ones he was familiar with. He didn't care that they might not mean him any harm. They were wolves. They had to die – all of them. Only then would the vampires of the world be safe to live their existences away from the human eye.

He was in his wife's private chambers, standing in front of the ancient, perfectly polished Mesopotamian copper mirror, squinting at the ragged scars on his otherwise immaculate throat – a scar he usually hid beneath a scarf. As usual, he'd only meant to give an inconspicuous, modern touch to his Roman haircut – military short and Gens Octavian blond – but wound up examining the disfiguring mutilation on his nigh-on invulnerable skin for gods knew how long.

"I know that it reminds you of your darkest day," Atalante said from behind him. The sound of her deep, sonorous voice always instantaneously made the world seem less grey, made life itself feel less like an endless string of nonsensical rituals, of meaningless repetitions. She stepped up to him and put her arms around his skinny waist. "It shouldn't. It should remind you of your victory."

"Victory?" he said, briefly touching his fingertips to the rough edges of the pinkish bite-marks. "I nearly got my head torn off by that filthy animal."

"But you didn't." She leaned her brow against his back, between his slender shoulder-blades. "You're here. You survived. You won."

"Not without help."

"Does it matter?" The irritation in her tone would be more than obvious to anyone, and he knew her; he knew her very well. Gently, she took him by the shoulders and turned him around, so that he could see her beautiful, heart-shaped face, admire her long, luscious black hair, look into her big, round, ruby-red eyes. "Stop living in the past. Stop punishing yourself for something that not only happened centuries ago, but that was out of your control from the get-go. You are here, alive, with me. That is all that matters, and I will hear no more of that self-blaming nonsense."

Despite himself, he had to smile a little. "You do understand that I have to do this, don't you? I have to eliminate this threat once and for all – for all our sakes."

She rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically, clearly meaning to annoy and tease him. "If you _must_. Just remember that not all of us agree, and that I personally believe you should honour the deal Demetri has worked out."

"You Greeks and your wretched diplomacy," he said, only half serious, took her hands from his shoulders, and squeezed them once before letting go of them again. "I know what I'm doing, woman. Trust me."

"Don't 'woman' me, Gaius Octavius," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. "I know that you believe that what you're doing is your duty. The fact that I don't approve doesn't factor into this in the slightest, but even so, I feel compelled to point out that sometimes, diplomacy is indeed the most prudent course of action."

"Sometimes, it is," he said, cupped her face, and gently kissed her smooth forehead, "and your opinion always factors into my decisions. You should know that Aro shares the sentiment. He too is in favour of peacekeeping and caution."

"Then perhaps you might find yourself inclined to at least think about changing your mind," she said, not sounding the least bit convinced.

He made a face at her, hoping it would be enough to show her that such mockery was unwelcome and uncalled for. "Atalante…"

"It's all right," she said, waving off. "I know you, my love. I know that once you've tasted blood, there's no stopping you."

Before he could open his mouth to make a suitable reply, there was a crisp knock on the door. "Come on in," he said, his tone sharper than intended.

The door opened and inside stepped Quirina – who these days went by the modern English version of that ancient and proud Roman god's name, Corin – diminutive and thin and dressed entirely in black, which matched her short-cropped dark hair. "Chelsea says it's time we left." She'd always been the quintessential Roman, hadn't she? Blunt and succinct and very much to the point. There was much about her to admire apart from her formidable gift of spreading contentment everywhere she went.

"Very well," he said, and turned to face his wife again. "I'll be back before you know it."

Atalante, however, was sitting by her commode, idly combing her long locks with her precious ivory hairbrush. "I'll be here, waiting," she said, not deigning to look at either him or Quirina.

Sighing inwardly, he picked up his dark-grey scarf, wrapped it around his neck, and marched out of the room, Quirina on his heels. "I can hardly wait to reach our destination," he told her, as they hurried down the dimly lit, ancient stone corridor toward the Grand Hall, the sound of their steps echoing and bouncing off the walls.

"Neither can I," she said, her soft voice emotionless. "Finally, we'll be able to put an end to the werewolf threat."

"Finally," he said, allowing the memory of his last encounter with one of those freaks of nature to repeat itself before his mind's eye _ad nauseam_ , _ad infinitum_. "We'll wipe them out – all of them."

* * *

 **5** **The night passed swiftly, and it was as unspectacular and mundane as every night before it, which seemed almost like a mockery of all the drama unfolding all around them**. As the break of dawn approached, Bella stood on the house's gigantic front porch, staring up at the starry sky, seeing the beauty of interwoven colours and twinkling lights without being able to feel any of the wonder this breath-taking sight might evoke in a human being. As a vampire, she could see so much more than before, but found herself unable to enjoy any of it. There was a certain poetic irony to be found in all of this, wasn't there? Not that she cared much. Not that she ever would have, come to think about it.

When Irina stepped up to her right, Bella turned to look at her, saying, "This is probably my last chance to admire the start of a new day, but the experience just leaves me completely cold."

Irina gave her a tired little smile. "Already starting to feel detached from yourself again, after all this living human blood?"

Bella jerkily shook her head. "No. I just realised that I never cared one lick about natural beauty, not even as a human." A little silence ensued. Finally, she said, "Jasper told me that I'll go back to being clumsy and useless and out of control once the effect of the human blood dies down."

"You will. Remember how you didn't know what you were feeling, but what you _could_ feel was overwhelming guilt and pain? That'll happen again, too. It'll all come back, and there's nothing you can do about it if you stop killing people. The humans you drained and ripped apart? You'll feel the weight of their loss badly enough to nearly go mad, but still it won't be enough to cure your thirst for more human blood."

"I don't want to die," Bella said calmly, knowing that her face betrayed no expression. There was no need to simulate anything now, was there? Not here, where she was surrounded by monsters just like herself. She looked up at the night sky again. "Still, I can't help but wonder if the end, should it be in store for me today, won't be deserved. I threw my life away without a second thought. I've murdered innocent people, prey though they might be for us. If we lose today's battle, perhaps this is a sign that there is some justice left in the world."

"Perhaps," Irina said lowly. "We'll find out soon enough."

"We will." Bella motioned at the horizon with a jerk of her chin. "Look. The sun's rising."

* * *

 **6** **For Leah, this had been the longest night in the history of long nights.** Every second had felt like a day, every minute like a month, every hour like a fucking century. The pain had been unimaginable. She hadn't screamed, but she had writhed, groaned, shaken, tried to phase, tried to run, tried to lose her consciousness. No such luck, though: she'd crawled through every split second of it fully awake, fully aware, feeling as if she was drowning in acid, as if every cell of her body were disintegrating slowly but inexorably. She'd clawed her way out of the anguish with dogged determination, though, reminding herself that all of this needed to be done and that it was worth it, that she was not suffering in vain. Yeah, Yuppie Vamp had helped, too, holding her in place, keeping her from scratching her own face off in her screaming agony, cooling her scorching skin with his ice-block body.

Finally, a million strange aeons later, the pain had started to subside, until finally, she was lying on the cool concrete, drenched in cold sweat and panting, queasy but basically pain-free. Demetri was kneeling by her side, visibly tense, ready to jump at the slightest sign of trouble.

At length, she pushed herself up to her elbows, shaking, willing him not to hoist her into a sitting position without being prompted. "Whew," she said, and whistled, ignoring how badly her stomach churned. "That was one hell of a ride. Please tell me I haven't turned into the first leech-wolf hybrid in the history of misbegotten freaks."

He snickered throatily at that. "There's only one way to find out: you need to phase. But first things first: how do you feel?"

"Like I got the worst hangover in the galaxy," she said, tried to get to her feet, tottered when a thousand stars exploded before her eyes, and didn't complain when he shot up in the blink of an eye and steadied her. Thankfully, though, he backed off the second she managed to stop teetering like a drunk sailor. "Otherwise, ready for action. This wasn't so bad."

The yeah-right look he gave her was priceless, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "Splendid. If you want to try to phase, I'll give you some room and wait outside."

She wiped some sweat off her forehead with the back of her still slightly trembling hand and blinked at him in confusion, before the penny dropped and she had to laugh. "A vampire with manners. There must be hope for the world, yet."

He briefly returned the sunny expression and started heading outside, pulling his sleeves over his hands and crossing his arms. "Please tell me if it's worked the way it was supposed to. Good luck."

"Thanks." She waited until he'd shut the metal door behind himself, before burying her face in her hands and taking a long, deep, quivering breath. Good Lord. Had she really just spent a night in a storage locker with a vampire, working off the venom that he'd bitten into her veins, so that she could turn into wolf-form without being forced to obey her Alpha's commands? If anyone else had ever had a more bizarre 24 hours in their life, they'd better write a damn book about it, because Leah wanted to read _that_ story. "All right, nothing to it," she told herself, feeling a little silly, but a little more grounded in reality again. "Let's see if the magic serum worked."

It was high time, anyhow. Her (well, Irina's) phone told her that it was nearly five a.m. in the morning. Time was running out. The clock was winding down. Today would bring an end to this sorry mess, one way or another.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

 **1** **"How is the nausea?"** Demetri said, as he drove his rental as quickly as was allowed, back toward Forks. It was about the tenth time he was asking this in as many minutes.

Leah, curled up in her seat, shivering and sweating profusely, almost whacked him upside the head. _Christ_. "Says hello. Is ready to party."

Violent cramps shook her stomach again, and she closed her eyes, pressing her lips together. This was the worst one yet. Who'd have thought that being infected with vampire venom would give her the world's most ridiculously acute case of motion sickness? She'd suggested phasing and running after they'd had to make two barf-stops, but he'd advised her to conserve what little energy she had; she'd need it. Comforting, that was – really comforting.

To be fair, he also mentioned that even if he were to carry her, they'd never make it past the wolves by trying human-free routes that would get them to their destination more quickly. Well, that was a point that she really needed to concede. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. This was such an epic cluster-fuck.

"You want me to pull over?"

" _No_." She breathed – once, twice, three times. Her stomach quieted down a bit. "No. Thanks. I'm good."

"It will be okay. Just ride it out."

"Just ride it out, he says," she mumbled, trying and failing to ignore the cold shivers that made her teeth chatter. "Easy as pie. Fucking a-plus."

"The pain's mostly gone, which is a great sign. By the time we get back to Forks, you will be able to stand again."

What a comfort and a half. She shut her eyes tightly, hugged her arms to herself, pulled her legs even closer to her body, and prayed to whatever deity might be out there that Yuppie Vamp was right. Her life wasn't the only one that depended on it.

That was when the merry yet generic pre-programmed chime of a cell phone rang out of Demetri's jacket pocket. Leah didn't want to open her eyes, but forced herself to do so when he said, "It's Chief Swan."

"Great. Just what we needed."

"I'll handle it," he said, took the call, and put the phone on speaker. "Good morning, Chief. I'm sorry about the kitchen tiles. I'll replace them as soon as-"

" _Never mind that, kid_ ," Charlie cut in brusquely. " _Your note said something about meeting with a friend about your fiancée's disappearance?_ "

Demetri exchanged a little look with Leah. "Yes. I'm actually on my way back to Forks right now. It seems like Irina spent some time with the Cullens in their home before travelling to Rio. I-"

" _That makes the whole deal even more suspicious_." On the other end of the line, Charlie cleared his throat. " _Listen, Matt, I've been checking their tax records and found some really dodgy stuff going on. You wouldn't even believe any of the other shit these people have been pulling, such as appropriating an old cabin on land that isn't theirs. To be frank, I'm surprised they haven't caught the eye of the law until now. Doesn't matter. I've returned to active duty and was just about to round up whoever's at the station. Got myself a search warrant, too. They can't send me away anymore_."

Time seemed to have come to a screeching halt. Leah felt as if her body had been flash-frozen. Eyes wide and stomach lurching, she pushed herself to an upright position and stared at Demetri, wide-eyed. Oh, God. Oh, shit. This was _not_ happening!

"A search warrant?" Demetri said, raising his free hand briefly to stop Leah from blurting out something rash. "This quickly? How did-"

" _Never mind how, son. I just did. I just wanted to tell you we're finally getting somewhere. With enough pressure – especially if it's financial, with these types – it's a heck of a lot easier to get the results we want. We're closer than ever to bringing them to justice. Just don't try to get to the Cullen house, okay?_ "

Again, Demetri and Leah exchanged a little look. She shook her head, dismayed. Her skull was pounding, her stomach roiling, and she was sweating buckets.

"Actually, Chief Swan, I was planning on confronting the Cullens, myself, " Demetri said, smooth and professional and betraying no panic at all. "I promise I won't-"

" _That's not a good idea_ ," Charlie interrupted sharply, only to add in a more comradely tone, " _Look, I know it sucks and I know you're entitled to some answers, but let the professionals handle this one. Trust me: a civilian like you would only stand in our way. I'll promise that I'll keep you posted. This'll be over sooner than you know_."

For a couple of seconds, Demetri closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "Sir, please, if we could just meet up first and-"

" _No can do, kid. We'll be on our way to that place as soon as the sun's out. Got to go, now. I'll tell you all about it when I get back home. See ya then_." With that, he cut the connection.

"Ah, _fuck_ ," Leah spat, and groaned, as Demetri swerved onto the fast lane and sped past a big, cumbersome minivan.

"Indeed." He dropped his phone back in his pocket. "This is unfortunate."

She swallowed back bile, grimaced, and shuddered. "No kidding. If Charlie and his people get in the middle of that mess, they're toast."

Keeping his eyes on the road and speeding up as much as was legal, he said, "Yes," curtly. The eastern sky was slowly turning purplish-pink as the sun started to creep over the horizon. "Dawn is about to break."

Her heart all but plummeted to her abdominal cavity. She hugged her arms to herself and stuck her ice-cold hands under her armpits. "We better hurry."

* * *

 **2** **The Cullens had prepared themselves as best as possible, given the circumstances**. All but Carlisle had gorged themselves on whatever was left of their human blood bags. The supply was depleted, now, but that didn't matter much. Should they win the upcoming fight, they could always get more. Should they lose…well, the point was, this concern was not even a tertiary one at this moment in time. It was still dark, but they'd all decided to defer to Jasper's war expertise and keep all lights off. It wasn't as though they really needed artificial illumination – even out here, it never got completely dark – and the sun was about to rise, anyway. The murk gave the vampires a bit of an edge, but Bella doubted that Sam was stupid enough to order an attack before the sun was out completely.

They were all inside the house, now, and all doors and blinds were shut far enough to hide them from prying eyes, but not enough to make them blind to their surroundings. This, too, had been a suggestion (order?) from Jasper, who'd told Carlisle that it would be suicide to meet the wolves on an open field of battle.

 _We don't have many advantages, which means we have to make use of the ones we do have_ , he'd said.

 _I still think we should go out and talk to them, try to find a peaceful solution_ , Carlisle had objected. _There is no need for violence_.

 _You do that, you die_ , Jasper had returned laconically. _Sam won't listen – none of them will. You need to face reality. You all need to face reality. Either we fight and live, or we go out there and die. This is how it's going down, and all your combined efforts won't keep the rainbow-tinged fantasy of a happy ever after alive. Now, are you smart enough to get that into your heads, or do you want to risk everyone's lives by stepping out there like a suicidal idiot?_

The others hadn't liked his tone, but they'd decided to defer to him, anyway.

Bella herself didn't have anything to object to his suggestions. He was the only one of them who actually had war experience, not to mention the fact that he had military training. Now, with Leah gone, they were one good fighter short. Barricading themselves inside the house might not be brave, but it was less stupid than meeting the wolves head-on.

She was in the kitchen, by the huge kitchen island she remembered from her first visit to this place. Idly, she traced the cool marble with her own stony fingertips, trying to recapture the whirlwind of emotions that had been whirring inside her head that evening. It didn't work. When she heard steps approaching, she breathed in deeply; it was Jasper. "When Edward brought me here the first time, you all made dinner for me, but I'd already eaten."

"Rosalie crushed the salad bowl."

Turning around, she saw that he was leaning sideways against the wooden doorframe. "I was nervous, but felt so, so special at the same time."

A few seconds ticked by, during which he just observed her impassively. Then, the corners of his mouth curved up ever so slightly. "You can't feel it, can you? The memory? It's like watching a documentary."

"Is that how you feel about your own human life?"

He crossed his arms and shrugged. "I can hardly remember my human life. The things I do remember most clearly are my training and my time as an officer in the Confederate States Army."

Well, that figured. "You know, I never asked you why you were so eager to join the army, young as you were. Did you believe in the Confederacy's ideology that strongly?"

"I didn't care one bit for ideology. I just wanted to fight."

Her eyebrows went almost up to her hairline. "So you've always had an appetite for destruction."

The tiny little hint of a smile blossomed into a smirk. "You don't seem bothered."

"I've been finding out much about myself, such as the fact that I only ever cared about things that directly affected me," she said, shrugged, and smoothed out her dark-red silk blouse – another one of Alice's outfit suggestions. "Victoria's attack? I made Jacob stay with me instead of fighting. That was so selfish. Everything I ever did was selfish, and this is the result." She briefly pointed at herself and then motioned about. "I'm sorry I brought this all on you."

"Are you really, or is this just your mind telling you that an apology is appropriate?" Before she could reply, he pushed himself off the doorframe and closed in on her. "Never mind that. It doesn't matter."

"What, my apology or whose fault it is that we might all die today?"

"We're not _all_ gonna die today," he said, half-chuckling, reached out, and very gently brushed a strand of her artfully wavy hair behind her ear. "You should pin your hair up in a bun. Makes it harder to grab you."

"Duly noted." Unmoved, she looked up into his bright-red eyes. "What do you think our odds are?"

"Well," he said, sounding weirdly playful, and briefly tugged on the hem of her blouse, "there are eleven of us and there are five of them. I'm pretty sure we can take them."

"There are at least six of them, and before you tell me that Leah can't fight, I'm pretty sure the tactical information she has to share won't do us any favours. Besides, who's to say that more Quileute boys haven't turned into wolves by now?"

"Life's full of mysteries," he said, gave her cheek a little pinch, and winked. "Don't worry so much. If we win, we win. If we lose, we won't care because we'll be dead."

"At least you're all fuelled up."

"Fuelled up and ready to go. Relax, Bella," he said, serene and good-natured. "It'll all be over soon, one way or another."

"Jasper? Bella?"

Jasper stepped aside. Her field of vision no longer blocked, she saw Irina standing in the doorframe.

"Edward can hear the wolves approaching," Irina said, her face expressionless, her voice grave. "It's starting."

Bella couldn't help but glance at Jasper, who was now positively grinning.

"Showtime," he said, and winked down at Bella again. "Finally, some life's about to be injected into this bore-fest."

"Finally," Bella repeated, not sure what to feel, not sure what to think. At least the wait was over. Today, it was make or break. Whoever won deserved to continue existing. Who knew? Maybe the right kind of monster would emerge victorious.

* * *

 **3** **They placed themselves in strategic positions around the house, one of the properly fuelled vampires at every vulnerable point**. Actually, to be honest, all points were vulnerable, since someone had thought it smart to replace the old, small windows with huge ones. Sure, there were wooden shutters, but those would not keep the wolves out as well as concrete walls. Worst case scenario? The wolves would try to starve them out, force them to burst out of the house in a feeding frenzy.

Irina was standing by one of the windows in the living room, next to a very tense Edward. Despite herself, her thoughts kept wandering to Renesmee, who was upstairs with Jacob, in the room where Bella had spent the first three months of her vampiric existence. When she wasn't forced to think about Renesmee, Irina wondered where the hell Demetri was. She was absolutely sure that Leah had joined him, and that he had called in the cavalry. The question – well, one of the questions, anyway – was: would they get here in time? The second question was: if they did, would they allow anyone to live? Unlikely. It was probably best to make peace with herself and her thousand-year legacy as an undead parasite. It had been a good run. Maybe it really was time to pack it in, fill the parting glass, good night and joy be with you all, etc. etc.

"Sam's thinking directly at me," Edward suddenly said, breaking the heavy silence. "He says we need to surrender. He says we don't stand a chance."

Emmett, who was by the front door with Rosalie, frowned and started to say, "But there are twice as many of us-"

"There aren't. More boys have turned. More…" Edward trailed off and chuckled.

"More _what_?" Rosalie said, clearly annoyed. She was Miss First World Problems personified, that one, and no mistake.

Edward shot her a look. "More girls."

Irina couldn't help but frown. "So?"

"So…that's unexpected."

She grimaced. "Well, good for them, I suppose."

"Good for them and bad for us," Edward said. "They don't even have to attack us. They have all the time in the world."

"And we drained all our supplies," Emmett said, and whistled lowly. "Oops."

"Yes," Edward replied, piqued. "Oops. Whose idea was it again to fuel up on all we had left?"

"Better to chance an attack at full strength than wait until we have to leave the house moderately fed to starving," Jasper shot back from the kitchen, very obviously unimpressed.

A minute or so went by. Irina was just about to say something, anything, when Edward drew in a sharp breath, directing all attention to himself. "Oh, no," he said, and glanced in direction of the kitchen, where Bella was with Jasper and Alice. "Charlie Swan."

* * *

 **4** **Edward only whispered this, but Bella's heightened senses did not stop at her hearing**. _Charlie Swan_ , he'd said. Charlie Swan. Charlie.

"Charlie," she said tonelessly. Her eyes darted to Jasper, who was by the door that led to the backyard. "My father. My _dad_."

"Stay calm," Jasper said, raising one hand. "I don't want to dope you, Bella. It'll hamper your ability to fight."

"We won't _have_ to fight," Alice chirped, not sounding or looking particularly worried as she re-adjusted the thin straps of her golden, shimmering cocktail dress. "We're safe in here, and if Charlie comes around, Sam won't attack, anyway."

"They don't have to attack," Jasper told her, still scrutinising Bella without blinking. "They'll starve us out, remember?"

"But Charlie's here," Bella said, balling her hands into fists. "He can't be here. He _can't_."

"The question is, what the fuck does he want?"

"He wants inside the house, Jasper," Edward said, loud and clear, from the living room. "He has a search warrant from a judge."

"And we got nowhere to go," Rosalie said, exasperated. "Splendid. Just splendid."

"He's almost up to our driveway," Edward said.

"We're going to have to go out and intercept him," Carlisle said from the study.

"Him and his friends," Edward said. "He's bringing some company from the department."

"Humans," Jasper said. "We can take them."

"Jasper!" That was Esme, from upstairs.

"Well, we have to do _something_ ," Emmett said.

" 'Something' should not include killing innocent people, let alone innocent people we know and care about," Carlisle said.

"What else do you suggest? They'll force their way inside if we don't stop them. We can't just run and hide because of the pack of rabid dogs. We need to take care of them," Rosalie said, urgency in her voice. Clearly, she was thinking of Renesmee. That was all she was even capable of thinking of, at this point.

" _We're not killing Charlie!_ " Jacob boomed from upstairs. " _Are you assholes insane?_ "

"No, we're weighing our options, of which we admittedly don't have many," Jasper replied calmly. He looked at Bella again. "We need to make a decision, and quick. I suggest we let the cops inside and drain them. It'll give us even more of an edge to fight the wolves, and we _have_ to fight them. Killing a bunch of humans right in front of them will enrage them and cause them to attack. It'll be to our advantage."

"We could hold them hostage and force the wolves to let us pass," Rosalie said.

"It wouldn't work," Edward said, impassive. "We're too big of a threat. They won't let us leave. Maybe Jasper's solution is the best, after-"

" _No!_ " Bella heard herself shouting. How she wished for a heartbeat and the rush of adrenaline! Instead, there was only silence in that strange new body of hers. " _You are not killing my dad!_ "

In a flash, Jasper was directly by her side. "Bella…"

" _No!_ " She slapped his hand away, livid. " _That's out of the question!_ I won't-"

"Ever see him again. Also, in a few decades at the most, he'll be dead. You, however – no, all of us, we have the chance to live forever, to keep the memories of the humans we once cared about alive for millennia. None of that is gonna happen if we lose control of the situation." He grabbed her by the shoulders and forcefully turned her around to face him. "Charlie and Renée will be dead, anyway, no matter what we do. You will be dead, too. Your daughter will be dead. If you want any of us to live, including yourself, you have to be strong. Do you understand?"

She stared up into his scarred face, wide-eyed. "I won't let you hurt my dad. I don't care what you say. He's my _father_."

"They're coming up the driveway: three cars, six officers," Edward announced tensely.

"Oh, God, _what do we do?_ " Esme cried out. "Carlisle?"

"I'm thinking, dear. Keep calm."

"Think faster," Rosalie said flatly. "Whatever happens, I won't let them get anywhere near Nessie. She doesn't need any more exposure at the moment."

"She could turn them to our side," Alice said. "Think about that."

"And then _what_?" Jacob snapped from upstairs. "We use them as human shields? Not happening!"

"We're not running. We're ending this today. What are you, cowards? For fuck's sake." Emmett said derisively.

Jasper, who'd been staring down at Bella this entire time, finally stopped frowning, relaxed visibly, and said, "I'll tell you what we're gonna do: we let them inside. We kill all except Charlie. He-"

"What? _Fuck you, you psycho!_ " Jacob shouted from upstairs. There was the sound of a wailing child. "Oh, Nessie, sweetie, I'm sorry! Don't cry. We're all just a little tense. All will be well, you'll see. I won't let anybody ever hurt you!"

Jasper, however, went on, unimpressed: "He gets to meet his granddaughter and will therefore no longer pose a threat to us. The rest will provide Edward and whoever wants a bite with extra strength. That way, our chances of overtaking Sam's pack will be greatly improved."

"Greatly? Marginally." That, again, was Edward. "There are a lot of wolves out there. I had no idea so many of them had the gene."

Before anyone could make a reply, someone rang the bell, and there was a crisp knock on the door.

"Oh, goodie," Rosalie said, and Bella could all but see her rolling her eyes. "They're here."

* * *

 **5** **"How long 'til we get there?"** Leah knew that she was asking this for at least the tenth time in as many minutes, but she didn't care. Her stomach was still roiling and she was light-headed, but she wasn't nearly as helpless as she'd been half an hour ago. That being said, she was still physically unable to fight – she could hardly phase, back at the storage lockers – and knew this perfectly well.

"Ten minutes."

"Well, drive faster. The sun's up! We're too late."

Demetri shot her a tense little look. "Do you want to get stopped by the police? There's a patrol car right in front of us. We'll never get there at all if we don't keep our cool."

She blew out a heavy breath, leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and started drumming on her thighs with her flat hands. "Sam will probably believe that the Cullens might use the distraction provided by Charlie to buy time, but knowing those bastards the way I do, I'm pretty sure they'll just eat every single human available."

"Do you think Chief Swan's daughter will participate in the murder of her own father?"

Shrugging (and flinching as sharp pain shot down her spine), she said, "I got no clue. The whiny, selfish little brat of yore is very much dead. New Bella's a mystery box full of sociopathic wonder," through gritted teeth.

"If she loved her father as a human, she won't be indifferent to him, now. You should keep that in mind. It's how it works with vampires."

"This is you assuming Bell-Bell was a normal, regular teenager." For a moment, she pressed her knuckles against her lips as her stomach revolted again. Luckily, nothing actually happened. She really could do without vomit down her already grimy sweatshirt. "And don't underestimate the influence of Jasper's mind-dope and his psychopathy. He and Bella bonded, and he'll be advising her to stop caring about anyone human. She-" The rest of the sentence got stuck in her throat as she dry-heaved.

"Want me to pull over?"

She wiped fresh sweat from her forehead and shook her head, grimacing. "I'm good. Just keep driving." It didn't even matter if she threw up all over herself. They were almost there. It would have to be soon enough – it just had to. Even beginning to consider the grisly alternative wasn't an option.

* * *

 **6** **Obviously against his own good judgment, Carlisle gravely stepped up to the front door and opened it.** Bella was still in the kitchen, but she could hear everything with perfect clarity. Part of her wanted to dash to the living room and scream at her father to run, but the other part – the one that advocated for the defence of her own best interests and ambitions – was stronger; it always had been. She kept standing frozen, paralysed, by the huge kitchen island, Jasper's hands firmly gripping her shoulders, whilst she stared up at him impassively.

There were six human hearts beating right outside the house. Bella wasn't breathing – her self-control was tenuous at best, even this sated – and still, the wet, deep sound of those hearts beating caused the vague, unpleasant, burning sensation in the back of her throat to return. Oh, how she longed to draw in a deep, deep breath and feel, taste the wonderful, irony, fleshy, red aroma of human blood.

Crystal-clear memories flooded her mind: Bella, following the sound of beating hearts into that forest and finding those campers who were completely helpless against her; Bella, Irina, and Jasper simply ending those fifteen lives, drinking until there was no room for more; Jasper burning the broken bodies of the dead humans, the shimmer of the flames reflected in his bright-red eyes.

She almost breathed. She could taste them. All it took was one breath of air, one second, and her instincts would take over, her vampire nature would override any and all vestiges of human trepidations. One breath, and she wouldn't _care_. How glorious it would feel to not give a single sorry damn about anyone, to simply act on impulse, to simply _be_.

A deep, male, familiar (beloved) voice spoke up from outside the house: "Doctor Cullen? Please let me and my officers inside your house. I've got a search warrant."

Another human coughed. Two of the heartbeats picked up the pace. The sound of that, the richness fullness humanity life _oh God_ _the_ _pain_ in Bella's throat flared stung burned her skin melting like fire lava pure agony. The little smile curving up the corners of Jasper's mouth was of no consequence. This was all too much too much oh so much oh no oh no she couldn't how could she humans prey food thirst pain anguish torture torment suffering pain no no _no_. No too much too much far too much to bear. She gave into the temptation and breathed.

God. Oh, God.

Before she knew it, her fangs were out. There was only the hearts beating thrumming in her head her whole body thirst fire pain hunger must be silenced must be quenched must be killed drained broken ended forever now now _now_.

She snarled at Jasper, punched him square in the chest. He let her go easily, stumbled backwards, didn't even try to grab her again. She breathed. The pain unimaginable terrible burning searing boiling painoh God it had to stop had to end had to just had to _right now_.

Someone shouted, " _Bella, no! Stop!_ "

Bella didn't care. What she wanted, she was going to get, and by God, did she _want_. The thought formed in her mind. She was moving. There was no stopping her now.

* * *

 **7** **The last stretch of road to the Cullen house was empty and silent.** They raced almost up to the driveway, knowing that if they got out and ran (which, at least in Demetri's case, would be faster; Leah wasn't so sure about her own speed and agility right now), Sam's pack would intercept them.

"They'll have an easier time catching us in here than out there," Demetri said, as the white monstrosity that was Castle New Money came into view through the trees.

"No. Sam won't attack when there's humans around to see any of it. That'll just endanger them," Leah said, trying hard to ignore her lurching stomach. Damn it, this was worse than that one time she'd been stupid enough to eat discount sushi. Demetri's prediction had been right: she was in absolutely no shape to fight. Would that stop her from trying, though? Nope. Of course not. Her little brother was in that fucking house of horrors. She had to do something, even if it was doomed to failure.

"I can smell them," he said. "There are at least ten wolves, maybe more."

Leah chewed on the inside of her cheek and shook her head, before throwing her hands up, wanting to slap some sense into the whole goddamn world. " _Great_. A-plus. More kids getting dragged into this crap. Just awesome."

"I see the police cars, as well." He pointed ahead.

She blinked the black spots away as best she could, squinted, and spotted them, too. Three cars, six cops. Good gravy. This was going to be a bloody massacre. She saw someone who just had to be Charlie Swan knocking on the front door. A few seconds later, the door was opened from the inside. The officers went into the house. The door was closed. From all around, there was the howling of wolves; Leah could almost taste their outrage.

"We're too late," she said quietly, as a piercing scream coming from the house cut the air. "Too late."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **1** **Demetri brought the car to a screeching halt**. Leah unbuckled, threw the goddamn fucking door open, stumbled outside, reeled, crashed into the gravel. He was by her side in a flash, grabbed her by the armpits, unceremoniously hauled her to her feet. Bile shot up her throat. She spat, groaned, tried to ignore the waves of queasiness threatening to drown her. Didn't quite work.

There they were: the wolves, howling, snarling, all around them. Another scream followed from the Cullen house – shouting, too. Three wolves surrounded Leah and Demetri, among them a huge, purely black one: Sam. The others, many of whom Leah did not recognise, started charging at the house.

Oh, God. No! " _Don't do it! It's a trap!_ " she screamed, earning herself a deep, threatening growl from Sam. When she reeled again – her head spinning stomach lurching stars and black spots before her eyes – and Demetri again caught her, the three wolves advanced, as the others circled Castle New Money, crashing against doors and shuttered windows, trying to force their way inside. The shouting and the screams had stopped.

"I'm not your enemy," Demetri said, loud and clear yet eerily composed. Vampires. Vampires and their weird nonchalance in the face of almost certain death.

Leah wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, nodded, and decided that it had been a horrible idea, as sharp pain shot through her skull. This was all so stupid. "He isn't. He's here to bring these fuckers to justice. Sam, _listen to me!_ " Sam jumped right in front of her, growling and baring his teeth, but she didn't budge. "I'm gonna phase, now, and you can see for yourself. Please, do _not_ attack!" She stepped free and exchanged a look with her vampire frie…uh, companion. Companion. Colleague. Whatever. "No time for decency, now. Take a step back." Any second now, the young wolves would break their way inside the house. There was no time to lose. She stripped off her clothes, sent a silent little prayer to whoever might be listening, and turned.

It hurt like all hell, but at least it was possible. First, there was silence. Then…then, the voices in her head drowned out her own, shouting, cursing, accusing. But there was no compulsion. It had worked! Thank goodness, it had worked. She faced Sam, who was still snarling at her, and focussed. Everything that usually came naturally to her was so hard right now!

 _Look inside my head, doofus! I'm not under mind-control, and I am – for the moment – free of Jacob's compulsion_.

That was oh so true. Jacob was very obviously in wolf-form, inside the house, screaming bloody murder at her, and she could ignore it just fine – just like the good old days. This was such a relief, it was worth the pain and sickness.

 _You let the leech_ bite _you? You_ -

 _Oh, get off your high horse, Chief Judgmental. It was the only way I could be here and help_.

 _You want to help? Fine. Fight with us – both of you_. With his head, he motioned at Demetri, who was really doing a damn good job keeping it cool and non-threatening. _They're killing people in there! We need to end them, and we need to end them_ now.

Frustrated, she howled. _Sam, they're fuelled up. If you attack them in their own home, they will have the advantage. They'll kill so many of us! It's what they want you to do. Be reasonable!_

"Tell him about my people," Demetri said very calmly, very slowly, not moving as two wolves circled him, ready to strike at any second.

 _What the hell's he on about?_

She glanced at Demetri and then focussed all her attention on Sam again. _Same thing he told Billy: he works for the vampire government, who keep murderous assholes in check and get rid of mind-eating half-vamp abominations. They make sure the vampires don't lose control_. It was probably best not to mention that little fucker Jasper's offer. First of all, he might've been lying. Second, he didn't deserve a happy end.

 _They're coming here? Good, then we can kill them, too_.

 _Not fucking likely. There's too many of them, and they'd burn La Push to the ground. If we cooperate, we can get rid of the Cullens and save ourselves. We_ -

 _He has red eyes, Leah. What the fuck's wrong with you?_

 _He doesn't kill his prey, but never mind that right now. The question is: do you want to live or do you want to die? I'll help you and so will he, but you have to trust us!_ Us? Where the hell had that come from? Also, was she actually defending a vampire? Yup. Yes, she was. Huh. Weird.

That was when it all happened at once: Quil and little Brady Fuller broke through the front door, howled, pushed their way inside. Shouts erupted. Screams. The house seemed to shake in its frame. One of the wooden shutters covering a huge-ass living room window quivered violently. Glass shattered.

Despite herself, she thought, _Oh, shit. We got to move!_

 _Yeah, we got to move!_ Sam set into motion, and the other two wolves followed. _You and your boyfriend want to help? Kill some Cullens, and then we'll decide if he gets to go on being undead!_

 _God damn it!_ Why did everything have to go wrong at once? Her hind legs were cramping and she was dizzy, but still, she limped after Sam after casting one little look at Demetri, willing him to understand.

He did. It only took him a second to race past her in a blur and crash into the house.

This was it. Showtime.

* * *

 **2** **The confusion inside the house was unnameable**. Blood everywhere – human and wolf. Broken furniture. Broken decorations. Broken windows. Broken bodies. Human remains, torn asunder, strewn about carelessly as they'd been discarded. Dead policemen. It was impossible to tell how many at a first glance. Hoping that the wolves had all been instructed not to attack him, Demetri quickly assessed the situation as he forced his way inside the house, ahead of Leah. It would be better if she stayed behind, but he knew that she wouldn't listen if he suggested this.

He headed into the living room. One dead wolf. Blood. A torn-off vampire head. The matriarch. Screams. Heat and smoke from the kitchen. Fire! A flash to his right. He managed to dodge his attacker, spin around, jump them – her. It was the small, skinny, childlike woman – Alice. Not a big challenge. She uttered a piercing scream as she crashed down. He knelt on her chest, grabbed her head as she tried to bite him, twisted it off like a bottle cap. The cracking sound was always repulsive. Couldn't be helped. He grabbed the head by the short hair. Two down, how many to go? Up on his feet, he pushed inside, flanked by two young wolves with light-grey fur and big paws – youngsters. Children.

"Stay close to me," he told them, mindful of Leah, who wouldn't want the kids to get hurt. Where was she? He breathed in. Ah, yes, at the door. Stubborn but admirable – everything about her, really. Pressing on, he ran into the kitchen. There was a fire. He tossed the head into the flames, making them crackle and grow, licking the walls and the ceiling and painting them black. Thick smoke spread. Bad for the wolves, irrelevant to him.

A loud snarl. Something huge and sandy-coloured jumping right at him, faster than him. Damn it! He went down with a heavy thump, cracking the floor tiles, reached up, grabbed the edges of the muzzle trying to maul him. Spittle dropped onto his face. The two young wolves yowled, hesitant. A loud bark. Someone – Leah – crashed sideways into the sandy-coloured wolf, knocking him (her?) off of Demetri. The two huge canines faced off, snarling and baring their intimidating fangs. Oh. It had to be her brother.

Demetri shot up to his feet and headed outside. Edward Cullen and his maker were attacking a wolf they'd singled out. It was a very young one, by the looks of it. Well, that wouldn't do. He gave his two companions (fighting alongside werewolves! What would Caius say?) a look and attacked, jumping Edward and letting the other two take care of Carlisle. Three wolves against someone on an animal diet? Even untrained pups should manage that one with ease.

A loud crash – broken glass loud thud shouts. Two big wolves jumped a huge male vampire (Emmett, his name was Emmett) and threw him and themselves from upstairs, onto the lawn. Good. He was as good as dead, there.

Eyes locked with Edward, Demetri tried not to focus on the sound of a wolf yowling then shrieking then whimpering then silent. Loud, mournful howls. One of the kids had died. He focussed on his opponent. No time for sensory overload now. Funny how that nuisance never ever completely went away. "Edward, you cannot win a fight against me, and even if you do, my people will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb. _Stand down_."

The three wolves had pushed Carlisle out of the room into the big corridor. He was screaming. Howling and shrieking from a wolf, more screams, then silence and wailing from the two surviving pups. Well, so much for that. Another Cullen down.

Edward briefly glanced toward the corridor, then focussed on Demetri again and snorted derisively. " _The likes of you cannot intimidate me with your wanton oppression!_ " Oh, God. He just couldn't stop being pompous, could he?

"Suit yourself," Demetri said flatly, and jumped him.

Edward tried side-stepping him, but he was too slow, too untrained, too inexperienced, too _young_. Demetri crashed him into the wall, grabbed him by the hair, hit his head against the wall once, twice, three times. Edward tried to bite him in the throat, but couldn't, tried to get a hold of him, but only caught his jacket and shirt, was thrown down, jumped. A wolf joined them – one of the kids – and bit down on Edward's neck. Demetri almost felt sorry for him as Edward wanted to scream but couldn't. Then, the head was off. The pup backed away. Demetri briefly nodded his acknowledgment and picked up the head to burn it – better safe than sorry.

How many were left? By his count, the most dangerous one: Jasper. Was he fighting for or against them? Hard to tell. He either wasn't using his power at all, or Demetri was simply out of range. Seemed unlikely, though. A loud and tortured yowl caught his attention. Another one, from another wolf. What was this?

Psychosomatic shivers slithered down his spine. Only one reason why one wolf was fighting another down here. He spun around his heels and raced back toward the kitchen. Leah!

* * *

 **3** _**There are too many of us and too few of you, Seth**_ _. Give up!_ Leah had her little brother backed into a corner, isolated him from his so-called vampire friends. The other wolves gave them a wide berth. All the better – saving Seth had been her primary goal, anyway.

 _You betrayed us! This is all your fault! I hate you! Just die, already!_

She knew that this was the demon-spawn speaking, not her baby brother, but it stung nonetheless. _Seth, listen to me: you're being brain-washed. This isn't you. You know that we are your real family, not these undead assholes, and not the little mind-warping freak. You know that! Just settle down. Stay here until it's all over, and it'll be okay; I promise. Please!_

His hackles stood on end, and he bared his prominent fangs at her again, growling loudly. _You don't know what family even means. All you ever do is hang around where nobody wants you, because you're a hateful bitch whose only purpose is making everybody miserable. People don't like you because there's nothing about you to like! Now get out of my way. I got friends to defend_.

Unbidden images bubbled up: Seth, a tiny, screaming baby, placed into his big sister's waiting arms. He'd stopped screaming and had blinked up at her in awe. Seth, eighteen months old, trying so hard to say her name. Seth, making a mess in the kitchen at age five, because he wanted to surprise their mom on her birthday with pancakes.

 _Stop thinking that bullshit!_ His mind's voice screamed at her in red-hot outrage. _It won't work! Get out of my way or I'll rip your stupid face off!_

That hurt more than anything else. Her stomach was lurching worse than ever, she was panting from the exertion of keeping in wolf-form, and it seemed like every damn muscle in her miserable body was cramping. This was a disaster. She concentrated on her brother. _Seth, please, listen to me! These leeches are not your friends. They don't give a rat's ass about you. They-_

 _Yes, they do! They care more than you ever did!_

 _Do you see even one of them rushing in here to save you? You're their pawn, their little pet, their servant. They don't give a shit about any of us! You're mind-controlled by the demon-spawn._

 _Don't you dare call our Nessie that!_

 _Once that thing's gone, you will_ -

With a thundering roar, he jumped, threw her down, landed on her side. She scrambled, hit him with her twitching paws, tried to shake him off and couldn't. He snatched at her, got her by the back of her neck, ripped through fur and skin. Searing pain coursed through her body. She howled. _Seth, for fuck's sake, don't!_

He tottered, gagged, backed off a little. _What the hell?_ Then, he vomited.

Leah tried to push herself off the floor, but slipped on her own blood, went down, saw stars. What was the matter with…oh, right. The vampire venom. Must taste really nasty. _Just calm down, calm down, calm down! Please, please, please!_

 _Hypocrite! You won't take away my real family!_ He jumped her again, landing on her back, trying to bite into her open wound.

She buckled, threw him off, slipped again, fell. He was on her. She pawed at him, turned her head, tried to dodge his attacks. There was no way she was going to bite him back! _Seth! Stop! Just stop! You're gonna kill your own sister!_ She was whimpering like a puppy, the back of her neck burning in screaming agony, her fur slick with her own blood. Dark spots danced merrily before her eyes. She was dizzy, her vision blurry. Not much longer. No more strength.

 _You're not my sister!_ He hit her in the face with his paw – hard.

Her whole body went slack. This was it. No more fight left in her. Even if there was, there was no living if she was forced to kill her baby brother. How could there be? There couldn't. _I love you_ , she thought. She saw him snarl at her. She saw his fangs close in on her throat. Then, everything went pitch-black.

* * *

 **4** **"We need to do something. Anything!"** For all her earlier determination to stand up and fight, Bella was now as useless as she'd ever been: upstairs, with Jacob, Rosalie, Renesmee, Irina, and Jasper. Everyone else seemed to be doing pretty badly on the ground floor. There were too many wolves. There was that Volturi tracker. "Edward's dead." What was the worst bit? The fact that she had done nothing to prevent it, or that it didn't even register with her? It didn't – not really. This was all so strange.

"We need to stay right here and stick to the plan," Rosalie said coldly. She was standing in one of the room's corners, by the window but out of sight, holding Renesmee in her stony arms. "Everything else is irrelevant."

"The man you spent the past seventy years of your life with doesn't matter?" Irina said, sounding tired, standing by the door. "Because he just got ripped to pieces."

Rosalie snarled at her. "Don't tell me what matters and what doesn't. I am well aware of Emmett's sacrifice!" She kissed the top of Renesmee's head. The girl was hugging Rosalie tightly. "It's all for the greater good."

Jacob, in wolf-form, huffed his agreement.

Then, there was Jasper. Bella turned to look at him – really look at him. He was by the big bed, standing there as if he had no care in the world, hands in his pockets. This was a little weird, wasn't it? He'd been so eager to fight, and yet here he was, just waiting for the fight to come to him. There was something off about his whole posture, that smug look on his face, his utter lack of anxiety.

"Why are you so carefree?" Bella heard herself saying. Oh. That was happening again. She really needed to watch her reactions, living human blood in her body or no.

"Am I?" he said.

"Yes, _you are!_ " Rosalie snapped at him. "For God's sake, Jasper: everything that matters is on the line, and you can't even pretend that you give a damn."

"I do give a damn," he said, and motioned at the unconscious figure sprawled on the bed – their human hostage. "I'm guarding him, aren't I? Our ticket out of here? As was requested by our Queen Bee."

Jacob growled at him, but he didn't even flinch.

Bella tried not to, but couldn't help looking at the fragile human lying there on the bed, blood soaking the bandage on his head. At least now she was sated, calm, in control again. Otherwise, she'd kill the poor man in a heartbeat, memories of humanity or no.

Catching her look, Jasper smiled a little, and said, "He'll be fine, Bella. You didn't kill him."

"I might, yet."

"You won't. You didn't during your feeding frenzy, and you won't do it, now. _Trust_ me."

"Trust you," she echoed, letting her eyes wander to the human again. The human. The hostage. Her dad. Charlie.

* * *

 **5** **"Leah!" Demetri saw her lying on the filthy kitchen floor, unconscious, bleeding, and very much human.** On top of her was a sandy-coloured wolf, fangs bared, drool dripping on her bare skin. Oh, no. This was her brother! Damn it! No time for pondering moral dilemmas, though. He tackled the wolf as the wolf was about to bite through Leah's vulnerable neck. The wolf – Seth – growled with obvious frustration, struggled, wiggled, snapped at him as Demetri hugged his arms and legs around him and turned him on his back with a strangled groan. " _Stop struggling and I won't hurt you!_ "

No such luck, though. The boy would've killed his own sister; he wasn't going to listen to a hostile vampire. Where the hell were the other wolves that might give Demetri some leverage, here? A few of them were dead. Others…there was a loud crash upstairs and shouting screaming thumping. A terrible, eardrum-piercing, high-pitched, inhuman scream shook the very foundations of the house. It was as if the whole world held its breath for a few seconds, stunned.

Oh, no. Everyone had their work cut out for them. Demetri had to handle this on his own or die.

The moment the shock wore off, Seth struggled again, snarled, growled, buckled, couldn't free himself of the slower, but stronger opponent. If this had been anyone else at any other moment in time, Demetri would've crushed his bones, bitten him, made him slow down, and then broken his neck. He couldn't do it, though. This was Leah's _brother_. His people in Italy came to mind. They'd laugh at his sentimentality. Caius might even want to punish him for not only allying with wolves, but saving their lives. It didn't matter. He couldn't kill this kid.

He could incapacitate him, though.

Focussing on his own strength, he crushed the huge canine body with all his might. Bones snapped with a sickening crunch, causing Seth to whimper and yowl. His movements slowed down, though, thank goodness. Demetri tried hard to ignore his nausea, closed his eyes, pressed his face against the side of Seth's throat, and sank his fangs through the fur and into the skin. Seth wailed and shrieked and buckled hard, but Demetri clung on firmly. Finally, the struggling subsided. Demetri shoved the lifeless form off of himself, spat, wiped his mouth, checked the boy's pulse. He was alive, of course.

Two wolves appeared at the kitchen door, snarling at him.

"He's going to be fine. He was trying to kill her. I had to stop him," he said, pointing at Leah, who was still unconscious, who was still bleeding. He skittered over to her, checked her erratic pulse, saw that she was having trouble breathing. One glance at the two young wolves told him that they were torn between guarding him and running away; they were probably being ordered by Sam to get rid of the last remaining Cullen coven vampires. "Go ahead. I'll look after her."

After another few seconds of hesitation, they backed out of the door and raced away – upstairs, by the sound of it. Without wasting any more time, he took off his scarf and draped it around her neck as a temporary, makeshift bandage. Otherwise, she looked unharmed, but the fire in the corner was still burning, and she wasn't exactly immune to smoke poisoning. He scooped her into his arms – she was surprisingly heavy for someone this thin – and ran outside, clearing the house, the smoke, the field of debris. Carefully, he placed her down on the grass, got a first-aid kit from one of the police cars, grabbed her clothes. A few minutes later, he was done stabilising and dressing her, and she was breathing calmly again. Her heartbeat was strong and regular. This was good. This was really, really good.

From his right, Sam approached, human. "She gonna live?"

Demetri got up to his feet and faced him. "Yes. There's a nasty gash on her neck, but it'll heal, even if it'll take a little longer due to the venom."

Sam's handsome and youthful face was a grimace of disgust. He was sooty and grimy, which stood in stark contrast to his clean clothing. "She let you bite her."

"She had to be here, and that was the only way," Demetri said simply, and shrugged.

"Way more stubborn than a mule, that one," Sam said, chuckled wryly, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It left a reddish-black smear. "She'll be happy you didn't murder Seth."

Returning Sam's look squarely, he said, "I promised I'd help."

"How noble of you," Sam said, making a face. "Never mind all that crap. We got ourselves a problem."

Demetri almost asked if this was about him, but when he breathed, he realised that he was the least of Sam's vampiric difficulties. "The child," he said.

"Not only her." Sam exhaled sharply, shook his head, closed his eyes for a moment, cleared his throat, and locked eyes with Demetri again with obvious effort. "You still wanna help? I need you to come talk to someone."

"Yes, of course." Demetri couldn't help but glance at the sleeping Leah.

Sam waved off. "She'll be fine. Come on. Don't make me ask again."

"I would never."

Together, they went back into the house.

* * *

 **6** **It all happened so quickly: downstairs, all their allies were dead**. Seth's voice had disappeared. Killed? Unconscious? Impossible to tell. Vampires all gone, except for one. Sam's pack was helping him or he was helping them. What the hell? Didn't even matter. They were coming upstairs – Sam and Quil and Paul and two he didn't even know – to get them, to get Nessie.

To get his Nessie and take her away from him.

Cold adrenaline shot through Jacob's veins like acid. His innards were in knots. Oh, no. No. No, no, no, fucking hell, no! He didn't want to fight them, but he couldn't let anyone near Nessie – he just couldn't.

"All right," he heard Bitch Barbie from Hell saying curtly, as she got closer to the window and placed Nessie on the floor, by the corner. "You all know what to do. Protect our child!"

Nessie's sweet little face was pale. Her eyes were huge. Tears were running down her cheeks. "Aunt Rose, hold me!"

"I will, my love, after we kill the bad men," Rosalie said warmly, then added in clipped tones, " _Jasper! Irina! Bella! Get to the door!_ "

Jacob inched closer to Nessie. He couldn't help it.

Jasper smirked at Rosalie over his shoulder and winked. "You wanted to know why I didn't protest when the spawn told me to stay out of the fight?"

" _What?_ " Rosalie frowned at him, confused, apprehensive.

"This is why." Fast as lightning, Jasper stretched out his arms, grabbed both Irina and Bella by their necks, squeezed. Both women gasped and then fell to the floor, unconscious. "There you go, ladies." He spun around to the others, who stared at him in horror.

Nessie screamed. Rosalie hissed. Jacob growled. What the hell was _happening_?

" _What are you doing?_ " Rosalie shrieked at him.

He tilted his head to the side and shrugged. "Keeping up my end of the bargain. Now, if you'd be so kind and not make a fuss…"

Jacob couldn't help it: his anxiety, fear, fury, it all drained out of him and was replaced by such powerful torpor, he had trouble keeping his eyes open. Hell, he could hardly even remember his own name. What…this was…no, he…Nessie…goddamn traitor, this…leech, he…

Everything went black.

Then, a scream – a high-pitched, warbling, primal scream of pure fury penetrated the thick and syrupy wall of artificial slumber, and Jacob jumped to attention. What he saw was both the most terrifying and fascinating thing he'd ever laid eyes on: by the window stood Nessie, small but feral, eyes shut, mouth wide, little hands balled into fists. She screamed, and it was so horrible, so off, so _other_ , Jacob felt like biting his own head off. He was paralysed, but so were Jasper and Rosalie. Nessie screamed and screamed and screamed. Jasper tumbled backwards, pressing his hands to his ears, his face a grimace of pure misery. The thick glass of the huge window cracked loudly, crashed down. Air wooshed inside. It smelled of morning and forest and smoke and death.

Then, the spell was broken.

" _Quick!_ " Rosalie shouted at Jacob.

He knew exactly what to do. As he raced toward the huge gaping hole in the wall, he only paused for a split second to allow Nessie to climb on his back. Then, he lunged out of the house, flew through the air, landed on the lawn, and ran as quickly as his legs carried him. Behind him, he heard Rosalie, but she wasn't alone: in her arms, she not-so-delicately carried their life insurance policy. In her arms, she carried Charlie Swan.

* * *

 **7** **"You couldn't have stopped them, you murderous piece of shit?"** Sam yelled. As the leader and the only conscious wolf in human form, he had the floor by default.

They were all outside, now, where the odds were very much on the wolves' side. On the front lawn, in the middle of a circle, stood Jasper Whitlock, Bella Swan, and Irina Horváthová. He was facing Sam with irritating nonchalance, whilst Demetri watched from the side-lines. No, of course they weren't letting him prance about unsupervised. He wasn't about to complain, though, knowing that it had been a huge compromise on their part to fight with him and not against him.

"I tried to stop them," Jasper returned coolly, "but the damn kid broke out the siren and paralysed me. I even tried to get these two lovely ladies out of the line of fire by knocking them unconscious for a moment or two."

That was…amazing. Demetri had to admit that this feat was nothing short of amazing. Jasper was the only mood-altering vampire this powerful that he'd ever met. On an animal diet, he'd been able to dope and basically render helpless dozens of people at once. On a diet of living human blood, he was as close to unstoppable as a vampire got. That wasn't what was amazing about any of this, though. No, Demetri had come across a good number of extremely powerful immortals. What made Jasper stand out from that already select group was his ability to take away a vampire's consciousness. Basically, he could make them sleep. That…oh, there were no words – no words. Not being able to sleep, to ever shut down one's brain, one's _thoughts_ was pure torture. One got used to it, yes, in a sense, but it was a burden that never, ever went away completely.

Now, here he was, not even two centuries old (and a smug little bastard to boot), and able to put a vampire to sleep, able to provide relief in a way that no-one had even believed possible. Here he was, advertising his abilities purely for Demetri's benefit. He wanted to join the Volturi and he knew that what he could do was his golden ticket in. It wasn't as if Demetri could argue with that, but it led them to a bit of a predicament.

"You killed Jared and Embry. You killed those cops. You're responsible for Charlie frigging Swan being kidnapped by that leech and by Jacob." Sam's whole body was tense, wired, trembling. His jaw was set and his hands balled into fists. "I should kill you where you stand."

"Kill us and you'll never get justice," Jasper said, unfazed, as if none of this was about him, as if his fate wasn't about to be decided right there, right then. "I'm immune against Renesmee's mind-control, and Bella here might even be immune against her other, fledgling powers. I got a feeling that that kid is only gonna get more dangerous and more impossible to defeat as time goes by. That isn't your only problem, though: Irina here has a deal with the vampire government that guarantees her safety, or else. Besides, I'm pretty sure that they'll want us to live for a number of reasons. Kill us, and you'll never catch the fugitives. Kill us, and you will all die before the sun sets." He was a distasteful individual, yes, but he did have a point.

Deciding that it was his turn, Demetri said, "He's right, unfortunately. My superiors will wipe your reservation off the map if you kill who they will definitely view as assets. More importantly, the dhampir is only getting stronger, and if it isn't stopped, it will wreak unimaginable destruction everywhere it goes. Trust me, you do _not_ want that to happen."

"We'll track them. We'll find them."

"Maybe you will," Demetri said, "but you won't be able to lift a finger against them – not anymore. All you'll do is add more powerful warriors to her army."

Sam gave him a meaningful look. "Aren't you the drama queen, Shakespeare In The Park."

"No, he isn't." Everyone glanced to the direction from which that shaky yet determined voice had come. It was Leah, sitting in the grass, looking pale and nauseous. She exchanged a look with Demetri, who briefly nodded at her. It was such a relief to see her awake and recovering. "You don't know what that thing is capable of, Sam, and last time I checked, she couldn't shockwave people into a stupor by simply screaming. That one's new."

"Leah-"

"Don't 'Leah' me. I'm serious. My own brother tried to murder me in cold blood, and that little monster had only touched him a few times. She's getting better at being an unholy abomination, and that is very bad news for all of us. Don't be a douche. Listen to the vamps." Judging by the hateful expression on her face, this obviously caused her revulsion, but she still said, "If you kill Jasper, we all die."

Sam pressed his lips together, shook his head, breathed deeply a few times. "Can't kill him, can't kill the blonde one. But Bella frigging Swan?"

Bella herself said nothing and just stood there like a statue, and so Jasper said, "Weren't you listening? She's immune. Also, she's the mother. That has to mean something." He raised his eyebrows at Demetri.

"I don't know; it might," Demetri said, and shrugged. "Her immunity, however, is an asset we can count on." She might be a shield against mental powers. His superiors would want to find out. "Please, let's all take care of this situation together. We'll clean up the mess here, you take your fallen comrades home. When my people arrive, I'll fill them in. We can then decide on the further course of action."

Sam stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "And all the while, Jacob and his merry band get farther and farther away. Great plan."

Demetri smiled a little. "They can't get away from me – no-one can. I'll track them. You can count on that."

"It's his super-power," Leah said, and yawned. "Sorry. Didn't sleep last night." She ran her fingers through her dishevelled and greasy hair. "Look, let's just do this. Let's take our dead home, take care of the wounded, and regroup. Anything else would be suicide. Besides, I need to check on my mom." Her eyes met Demetri's. "Will we need to tie him up, or something?"

"Yes." There was no use in mincing words. "I'm sorry." Strangely, he was.

"Yeah, yeah, _fine_ ," Sam snapped, sighed, and uttered a bitter little laugh. "Let's pack up. We've got families to inform and funerals to prepare."

Without further ado, they set themselves to work.

* * *

 **8** **"Hey, could you come over here for a moment?"** Leah had tried to help, but was too sick, too woozy, too fucking tired to even stand straight. Therefore, she'd sat down sideways on the backseat of one of the patrol cars, her naked feet planted on the cool, green grass. Walking deliberately slowly – he probably didn't want to add to the already rampant tension – Demetri approached her, stopping at arm's length.

"How are you feeling?"

She shrugged; it hurt. "Okay. I'll be fine. I, uh…" She trailed off, bit her lower lip, tried hard to ignore the burning at the back of her neck, where Seth had bitten her. Seth. Her baby brother. Her baby brother who'd almost killed her. Christ on a cracker. "Look, I know you saved me, and I know you didn't kill my brother when you could have." There was a knot in her throat. The tip of her nose was itching. Her vision grew a little blurry. She sniffled. Goddamn. "Thank you," she said, made herself face him, and failed to smile. "Thank you for all that you did. You're a good guy, you know. It's not your fault that you're a vampire."

That made him smile. It was nice to look at, despite everything and the whole world. "That has got to be the nicest thing a werewolf has ever said to me," he said, and went serious again. "I'm sorry about the kids who died. I'm sorry about the loss of human life. I'm sorry about what happened to your family."

The knot came back. She briefly covered her face with her hands, feeling stupid as her breath hitched in her throat. "Yeah," she finally said, letting her hands drop to her lap after mopping at her eyes, "I know. We got bigger things to worry about, now, and I'm not just talking about the demon-spawn. This mess right here will catch everyone's eye."

"We'll do what we can to control the damage," he said. A few pretty awkward seconds went by in silence. At length, he reached out and patted her shoulder once, before pulling the sleeves of his filthy and torn jacket over his hands again and crossing his arms. "I'll do what I can. I promise you that, even if you probably won't be there to see it."

The fuck? Her eyebrows shot up. "What're you prattling on about, yuppie? I'm so coming with you when you rain hellfire and brimstone on the little demon."

The slightest frown creased up his pale skin. "But what about your brother, your-"

" _I'm coming with you_ ," she said sharply, willing him to shut the trap and stop protesting, lest she should start to question her own resolve. "I kind of owe it to you after ruining your scarf by bleeding all over it. You kind of owe it to me after witnessing me at my most exposed not once, but twice. Also, you saved my life. I need to go out and find an opportunity to save yours in return."

Half a minute ticked by during which he just frowned down at her. When she was about to snap her fingers in front of his face, his expression smoothed out, and he said, "All right. In for a penny, in for a pound, then."

"Damn right," she said, feeling as if a huge wave of relief was washing all over her body. Thank God he didn't ask why she needed to do this so badly, why she needed to see it through to the end, be it bitter or sweet; she just _had_ to. "Shake on it?" She held out her grimy hand.

He took it without hesitation and shook it once, smiling. "Absolutely."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and for your thoughtful reviews, as well as your perseverance.**

 **In our story, consequences continue to pile up, but after all the death and mayhem of the last chapter, I'm giving you guys a bit of a breather. In this chapter, our characters come to terms with what's happened and try to figure out how to proceed. Oh, and new complications arrive. Yay! Stay tuned!**

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

 **1** **Taking care of the vampire corpses, the dead humans and wolves, the house – that was all easy**. Fire had an amazing cleansing effect and, if controlled, was the best means of disposing of unwanted evidence, especially vampire and human remains. In this case, though, there were some problems resulting from the deaths in question. The dead campers and forest fires cropping up everywhere during the past week were weird and suspicious enough, but this? Five police officers dead, the chief missing, and not only that: they'd been on their way to search the house of a family that had caught the Feds' eye. All of them were now wiped out, the family was gone, and the house was in flames.

What was the first rule of being a vampire, well, a supernatural creature of whatever kind? Don't get caught. Yes, the house was burned, the corpses were gone, and the vampires overseeing this were veterans in disposing of evidence. Still, this was the age of information – the age of the internet. It wasn't possible to simply murder, burn, move away for a while, and trust in the fact that neither authorities, nor civilians had the capacity to prove anything, let alone do something about it.

In the twenty-first century, everything was different. Humans outnumbered vampires and whatever else might be lurking about by the millions. They had weapons of mass destruction. Hell, they had napalm. All they really needed was the element of surprise and a nice bonfire. Vampires alone were not nearly as invincible as they had spent millennia believing. That was one of the reasons many of the Volturi coven, including Demetri, advocated not only for a less homicidal approach to their daily conduct, but also for forging alliances with old enemies – if not that, then at least for making peace with them. It may not seem palatable to everyone, but it had become necessary. There was no way around this: either the vampires adapted to changing times, or they would eventually face extinction. Some would definitely argue that they deserved this due to their very nature, or that if they'd end up getting themselves extinct, it would be the logical extreme of evolution.

As he and Jasper took care of the house and the non-wolf corpses, Demetri tried to find solutions for the epic can of worms that had been opened with this fight today. The FBI would get wind of what had happened, of course, and would investigate. The media would pop up. People would grow aware of the fact that something strange was happening. Rumours would spread. Sites with sightings would pop up. Maybe someone would be able to upload a video of an actual vampire on social media, or livestream evidence that would then be impossible to get rid of. Humans would be more alert and motivated to prove the existence of the supernatural, especially if initially faced with ridicule.

Only one instant of carelessness, only one lucky break for a human, and the damage would be done. Exposure must be avoided at all costs, and yet, the more time marched on, the less likely absolute secrecy and obscurity became. What had been happening in and around Forks during the past few days hadn't helped, that was true, but the arrogance and the conspicuous prancing about of criminally stupid vampires such as the Cullens were the real problem, the actual reason why vampires and the supernatural would one day face general exposure.

In this particular instance there was, also, the collateral damage that was human loss and grieving relatives. This concrete case, for example, included the relatives of the deceased police officers. There was Charlie Swan's ex-wife to ask questions. There were friends and colleagues. There were the twenty-plus humans the Cullen vampires had drained amongst themselves. There was the way those humans had been killed and the way their bodies had been disposed of. There was the fact that there had been fires all over, buried remains, and that a prominent family was now at the centre of attention. People would remember that the Cullens had behaved strangely the minute they'd set foot into town. People would remember that the Cullens were not only rich and haughty and uncongenial, but generally odd and unpleasant. People would remember that the Cullens were physically weird, as well, that they stuck out like sore thumbs, that the kids were constantly skipping school, that they all kept to themselves, that they flaunted their wealth in everybody's faces. People would remember that Bella had displayed symptoms of severe depression after Edward had left her, that Charlie Swan had resented him for this. People would remember the wedding and Bella's mysterious disappearance. They would remember everything and they would not be the least bit inclined to take the Cullens' side in any of this, especially now that five of their police officers were dead and the Cullens looked very much responsible.

Now, Chez Cullen was in flames, most of them were dead, five police officers were gone, and Chief Swan was missing. If this didn't make the news, what would? It wasn't as if the locals were goldfish. Not even a year ago, Victoria and the new-borns had happened. Before that, she'd murdered humans left and right in the company of her nomad little friends. The locals had been afraid and clueless, which made them angry – understandably so. None of the murders had ever been solved. This was all suspicious as hell.

In fact, it was a bit of a miracle that none of this had made it onto social media yet.

This afternoon at the latest, Caius and his entourage would arrive here and decide everyone's fate. Demetri hoped that his clean-up job was good enough for government work, but even an entire Volturi cleaning crew would not be able to get rid of the colossal mess that had been allowed to spill all over the place. They needed to not only clean up and then get as far away from there as quickly as possible, but also to find the dhampir and its surviving guardians. They needed to contain this situation before the dhampir managed to contaminate even more innocents. This was absolutely vital.

Sam Uley had wanted to talk to Renée Dwyer about Charlie, arguing that she was already neck-deep in the supernatural and would find out about vampires and werewolves anyway, given the circumstances. Demetri, mindful of his promise to Leah, didn't mention that he'd be forced to kill anyone who found out the truth, but he did argue that Renée had no idea about the wolves. Even if she came to unsavoury conclusions, she'd never even start to guess about the wolves. When the question came up about how to explain Charlie's absence to her, or at least how to keep her away from the eye of the storm, the least favourite person around came up with a viable solution. Nobody liked it, nobody wanted it, but nobody had a better idea.

Once they were done taking care of business at the smouldering remains of Castle New Money, as Leah had dubbed Chez Cullen, the wolves collected their dead and left for La Push, as Bella, Irina, Demetri, and Jasper headed back into Forks in the rental car. There was, of course, the chance that neighbours might notice the not-too-pristine condition the stranger staying at Chief Swan's and the Cullen boy were, but it shouldn't make too much of a difference at this point. Keeping a low profile often went hand in hand with hiding in plain sight. Brazenly showing up at the chief's home was less suspicious than a simple disappearance. If they did not do something to scramble Renée's memories and make her less alarmed for at least a little while, even more unwanted attention would amass, and then, the spotlight might even find them.

Demetri, of course, was driving. "You're sure it'll work?"

"It'll work. It won't last, of course, but by the time the effect wears off, we'll be long gone. Besides, she'll have a really hard time separating reality from what she'll think of as dreams, so we're basically off the hook, there." Jasper, who was riding shotgun, ran his pale fingers through his sooty blond hair. "I need a shower and a change of clothes. Do you think Chief Swan would mind if I borrowed one of his patented Paul Bunyan outfits?"

It was hard to decide whether this nonchalance was admirable or despicable, so Demetri decided he believed it was a little bit of both. The condescension toward Charlie, however, was purely despicable. "No, I don't think so," he said, turning a corner and slowly driving down the street toward the Swan residence. "I'll need you to come with us when we hunt the child, and I want you to be-"

"Does 'us' include Miss Clearwater?"

"Yes, and you'll be civil with her," Demetri said, and cast a little look at the women, over his shoulder. "Anything else is out of the question." Maybe he used a sharper tone of voice than was needed, but Jasper's attitude did call for _some_ kind of response.

"Naturally," Jasper said, good-natured, obviously ignoring the admonition on purpose. "Oh, before I forget: Bella, darling, please don't kill your mother. We have enough problems as it is. That would really be helpful to no-one."

"I didn't kill my dad," Bella replied monotonously, from the backseat. "I won't kill her."

"I can warp her perceptions and screw around with her emotions and memories, but at some point, she'll remember that she's supposed to be investigating your death and that Charlie went out to arrest my former coven members."

"If you can get her to fly back home and then have trouble remembering what was real and what wasn't, it'll be a huge help," Demetri said, parking the car directly in front of Charlie Swan's house. "She has no proof, has seen nothing, and will have big gaps in her memory. That should be enough to keep her safe."

"Should be?" Bella said.

"Should be. You two stay here until we have taken care of her. Then, come inside as quickly as you can, and as inconspicuously," Demetri said, already stepping out of the vehicle. He was in no mood for debates about potential future measures regarding human loose ends. Neither did he want to think about Irina's fate. She had been infected by the dhampir and was a liability. There was no way that he – or his superiors – would allow her to join the little hunting party. She might destroy everything, no matter how much she might want to help. Her intentions mattered nothing once the puppet-master that was the dhampir stepped back into the picture.

"All right, then," Jasper said, as he followed Demetri up the gravel path to the front door, "it's show-time."

"It is," Demetri returned lowly, as he knocked on the front door. "I just wish you weren't so giddy about it."

* * *

 **2** **The shower that Leah took was epic**. Usually, she worried about wasting water or energy, but right now, locked into her mom's bathroom and letting the scalding water patter down on her head, she truly and honestly had zero fucks to give. She was sitting on the tiles, knees pulled up to her body, arms around her legs, eyes closed. This was the best thing ever. It helped with the nausea. It helped with the pain. The closing neck-wound was still burning, sure, but it was healing quicker than it would on a human body.

The best thing about this was the fact that like this, in here, she could almost pretend that the last few hours hadn't happened. The last few hours? Hell, the last few _months_. Nothing bad had happened at all. Leah hadn't been forced via supernatural pack dynamic to defend a bunch of homicidal vampires. She hadn't sat by as those vampires had been responsible for several deaths, human and werewolf. She hadn't been useless as two of her friends had gotten murdered. She hadn't teamed up with yet another vampire in order to stop the ones her brother and one of her best friends were backing. She hadn't allowed said vampire to bite her, to contaminate her, to make it possible for her to fight her own brother. Her brother hadn't tried to kill her.

Her brother hadn't tried to kill her.

Her brother hadn't-

Her brother had tried to kill her.

Dear God, Seth had tried to kill her. He'd tried to kill her, and the worst thing about that? He'd _almost succeeded_.

The only reason she was still breathing was Evil Brit, the preppy vamp.

Oh, to hell with those stupid, snarky epithets. The guy had a fucking name, and he deserved to be thought of by that name: Demetri. Demetri had saved her life. He'd spared Seth's. A vampire had saved her from getting her head bitten off by her own damn baby brother. He was her friend, wasn't he? Yeah, he was. The thousand-year-old vampire was her friend while her little brother hated her guts and wanted her dead. How the _hell_ had that happened? Well, it was actually easy enough to explain: vampires had returned to Forks and had activated an obscure Quileute werewolf gene. They had brought death and destruction upon everyone, had caused a demonic death-baby to be born, had eaten Jacob's mind and Seth's mind, had made Seth want to kill Leah, had made a vampire save her life care more about her than her brother who wanted to kill her kill her call her names tell her she was unloved want to kill her want her dead want to rip off her head want her dead gone finished over dead dead dead

 _Stop_.

For fuck's sake. This bullshit was going nowhere. Jeez.

No. No, no, no. Oh, no. She was not going to screw herself over by obsessing over something that she couldn't change, something that wasn't even Seth's fault. No, she was not going to mentally harp on the fact that her _de facto_ best friend right now was a fucking undead leech. More important things were going on than her own private little family drama, than her heartache (the dead boys Jared Embry and those little kids she knew them all of them dead kids children dead dead dead gone forever dead _oh God_ ), and she wasn't going to think about any of that, either.

Right now, she was just going to sit here in the shower, enjoy the hot water, and pretend that the world wasn't broken. That was what she was going to do, and she would do it until she couldn't pretend that she was able to switch off her thoughts anymore. Then, she'd snap out of it and trudge on like she always did. Sure, her heart was in sore need of being taped back together, and the rest of her body wasn't doing too hot, either. She'd do it, of course. Of _course_. She always did what she had to. She'd get up and shake off the pain and help the vamps kill the demon-spawn.

Then, she'd kill Jasper fucking Whitlock. It was the least of courtesies she could return him. If that thought wasn't enough to keep her going, then nothing was.

* * *

 **3** **It wasn't easy for a large group of vampires to keep living in one place over a prolonged period of time**. It was even harder to handle large amounts of money that way. However, with the right kind of subterfuge, it could certainly be done. The most important rules of successfully existing as an immortal could be simplified thusly: first, one must keep out of sight; second, one must try hard to avoid a paper trail. It was impossible to not leave any documentation, but with skill and patience, a vampire coven could keep out of the spotlight well enough. There was always some risk of exposure, of course, but if a vampire ruling body were to exist – and it had to – it needed some kind of leverage over its subjects. That leverage involved using human currency, human technology, and human rules of conduct.

For example, a vampire was physically capable of travelling by him- or herself without relying on human machines, powered only by her or his own strength. This vampire could traverse mountains, deserts or large bodies of water easily enough. This, however, took time and effort, especially if the vampire did not want to draw any unwanted attention to her- or himself. Therefore, it was much less time-consuming and risky to simply take an aeroplane to a far-off destination. Yes, this left a paper trail and it constituted a risk, but it was still less conspicuous than not trying to blend in discreetly. In the case of the Volturi, none of them travelled far unless forced to do so, and when it was more than one vampire, they usually opted to take a private jet and not a scheduled flight. The less contact one had with humans, the less likely exposure became. It was a simple matter of logic, and simple logic was always the best.

Caius himself was the only one of the three Volturi leaders who actually looked forward to travelling far and wide across the globe and basically jumped at every opportunity to do so. These days, vampires all around were less inclined to try to set themselves up as rulers over human slaves, so there was less need for intervention than in the olden days, but that didn't mean that vampires all around had quit being stupid. Every now and then, some of them would get ideas of grandeur, mess up, and risk the revelation of their kind to the world. The usual approach would be to send one emissary to them – usually Demetri, who was best at tracking and at diplomacy – and make it known to them that they were treading on thin ice. If that didn't work, if a warning was not enough, the culprits would be brought to justice. It was a simple law; it was a law that _worked_. Still, so many of them seemed completely incapable of following this one rule: do not get caught. That was it, really. Everything else was an offshoot of that one simple little rule.

Now, the high and mighty, ever-growing Cullen coven had become a big enough threat to vampire secrecy to require complete annihilation. Caius couldn't say that he felt any sympathy for them. If he were to be honest, he would need to admit that the last time he'd ever felt any sympathy for anyone at all had been…when, again? Never. Not even as a human had he been particularly sentimental, and he'd only kept relevant human memories regarding his education and sense of propriety. That was something the Romans had truly exceeded in. Until this day, they were unparalleled in refined tastes and logical thinking and efficiency. Keeping that knowledge alive was important. It helped keep his mind focussed. It helped him remember what mattered and what didn't. Order was important. Discipline was important. He'd do whatever was necessary to keep that order. Everything else was secondary.

This little expedition required the involvement of more than simply one Volturi enforcer, but not too many. Private jet or no, the more vampires travelled together at once, the less inconspicuous they were. That, too, was logic. According to Demetri, the local brand of werewolves would attack the Cullens before Caius and his people had a chance to arrive, which would most definitely decimate both sides. Also, as the last update had uncovered, the Cullens' precog was blind due to the dhampir's presence, which was helpful. However, there were still certain risks involved, and prancing onto the scene bursting with self-confidence was never a smart move.

Certain precautions had to be taken, such as one's choice of companions. Caius had wanted to bring both Quirina and the other Roman bodyguard the trusted with his life, Lucius Cornelius Felix – nowadays only referred to by his cognomen. However, Aro had pointed out that when a dhampir was involved, it was best to bring out the big guns. Therefore, Felix stayed at home, whilst the twins were asked to join Caius, Quirina, and Chelsea. Taking care of business should not require much time. There were the Cullens, of course, who needed to be killed, and the dhampir, who needed to be collected.

Then, there were the wolves. These were not the same werewolves that Caius knew. They could transform on a whim and retained their human intelligence whilst in animal form, which made them both more and less dangerous than their moon-bound cousins. They also only existed as wolves to counterbalance vampires, which made them a vampire's natural enemy by definition – literally: they were creatures of nature where vampires were not. It was as if nature had had an allergic reaction to vampires, as it were. It was a rather laughable notion if put in so many words, surely, but it might actually be the case. Who knew? It didn't really matter. They needed to be wiped out, of course. They were by their very nature a threat to vampires, and a powerful one at that. Like a pathogen, they needed to be contained. There was no arguing that point. They would have to die. It was as obvious as the fact that it was always darkest before the break of dawn.

As soon as the jet had landed and they had cleared customs, they set out from Port Angeles to Forks by means of Demetri's preferred method of travel: rental car.

"It's been a while since I've driven one of these contraptions," Chelsea said, as she took a seat behind the steering wheel. When Caius stood by the Audi's passenger side door, a frown on his face, she leaned over and batted her long, dark eyelashes at him, smirking. "What are you afraid of? Losing the deposit if I crash the thing? Hop in, dear."

It hadn't been easy getting used to her casualness, but over the centuries, even he had managed. After adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt, he took a seat and carefully shut the door. "Funny, Charmion."

"I know you love me," she said, and started the engine before casting a look over her shoulder, at the people on the backseat. "Everyone good to go?"

"Yes," Quirina said curtly, all business. Now that was a person after Caius's own taste: blunt and direct and always to the point. Like him, she believed in the clear-cut beauty of Roman virtues. It was only one of the reasons he liked having her around, especially when he was apart from his wife. That was always the worst aspect of travelling, but what had to be done just had to be done. There was no way around any of it.

"We are," Jane said, sounding weirdly chipper. Well, she enjoyed travelling even more than Caius did and much more than poor, affection-starved Demetri ever had. "Brother?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Alec replied, always the more verbose of the two, even if less emotional.

"Good," Chelsea chirped, setting the vehicle into motion. She briefly motioned at Caius. "Buckle up, boss. It's the law."

* * *

 **4** **It was around noon when Demetri got a call from Chelsea, informing him that she and the others had arrived and that they were on their way to Forks.** He quickly filled her in on the current events and then advised her to come to Charlie Swan's house, which was much less suspicious than cruising the woods right after the massacre. Like this, they could pretend to be Demetri's relatives, here to find out more about Irina's disappearance. Naturally, this alibi wouldn't hold up to close scrutiny, but it was enough for now; it had to be.

He was standing by the kitchen window, looking out at nothing in particular, running possible scenarios of upcoming events in his mind. Being over a thousand years old and having seen much in his life, he was certainly not an idiot. He knew that Caius, who was leading the Volturi party, would want the wolves eradicated. He also knew that Caius would want to see Irina, who'd been infected by the dhampir, dead. No-one who'd ever been touched by one of those things had managed to return to normal. That didn't mean it wasn't possible, though. Irina hated that kid and wanted to help find and kill it. She also had a very painful backstory involving an immortal child, and she'd always clung onto strong memories of being in love whilst human.

All of that might interfere with the unholy bond that tied her to the little monster. Didn't it at least mean that she might not be too far gone? Didn't it mean that there was still hope for her recovery? The least Demetri could do was advocate for temporarily sparing her, for taking her in and putting off the execution until the dhampir was gone. Maybe Irina would then be free of the compulsion. Maybe she wouldn't go insane. Maybe she wouldn't share the fate of all those that had come before her. Maybe there was no need to eliminate her at all. It was a long shot, yes, but there was a chance.

The sudden approach of Bella Swan had him snap out of his ruminations.

"Won't you be forced to kill my mother?" she said tonelessly, as she positioned herself to his left.

"Not if she doesn't find out that we're vampires, and I don't see that happening," he replied calmly. "She'll be suspicious of us, yes, and she'll have gaps in her memory, but there is nothing to connect these oddities to vampire lore at all. Even if, her recollections will be jumbled, and she'll not have any kind of proof." He glanced sideways at her, taking in her deadpan and emotionless demeanour. "She's quite safe."

"But not my dad."

Was there a point in lying to her? "No."

"If he's gonna die anyway, then what's the sense in taking him hostage? Jacob and Rosalie must know that your people will destroy any human who finds out about our existence." She had a point.

"They don't know that for sure," he said, turning to face her properly. She did the same. "I'm sorry, by the way."

"I am, too," she said, staring squarely back at him without even trying to pass as human. There was no need for that, and even if, she probably had no idea how to pull it off. "I lost control earlier, but even then, I didn't want to see him hurt. I pushed him aside and killed two of the others. Does that mean I still love him?"

"Probably," he said, even though he knew that this didn't necessarily have to be true. Sometimes, a vampire's compassion toward their human family was nothing but habit. He didn't know Bella well enough to come to any useful conclusion, though, and it would be wrong to plant the notion in her mind that she might be permanently unable to feel anything even remotely related to love. It was time to change the subject. "I need you to function if we are to catch your daughter and eliminate the threat that she poses. Are you up for that? I believe you're quite capable of guessing what will happen to you if you come along on this journey and fail." There was a time and a place to mince words; this was neither.

For a few seconds, she just returned his look impassively. Then, she nodded once, and said, "Renesmee is a threat to everyone. She can't survive. I understand that. I won't fail you."

"I wouldn't just be me you'd be failing," he said, watching her for reactions and getting nothing out of her expression or body language. "Since we're on the subject, there is another thing you must keep in mind: there will be no killing humans – not by you, not by Jasper, not by anyone. You can either comply, or I will end you without thinking twice about it. If you believe that you and Jasper can outmanoeuvre me, you should remember that I'm not the only tracker around."

"There's no need for threats," she said tonelessly, and turned to look out the window again. "We'll comply. We have no reason not to."

"Good," he said, still watching her. "Then we shouldn't have any problems."

* * *

 **5** **The party from Italy arrived shortly afterwards.** Bella had to admit that they elicited more curiosity from her than anything else that was going on. She'd met some of them before, as a human, including Demetri. Back then, she'd been soaking wet from her tumble into that Volterra fountain, afraid for her life, and extremely light-headed from being reunited with Edward. Basically, she'd been riding an adrenaline high the entire time, and still, she'd been _so_ dazzled by the beauty of all those haughty immortals. She'd been _so_ eager to join their ranks and be praised for her own beauty and extraordinary gifts.

That colossal joke aside, she was actually curious what the ancient one, Caius, would look like to her, now. As a human, all she'd seen was the superficial allure of those people. As a vampire, she saw beyond. If she wasn't careful, she was forced to see everything. It was almost funny, wasn't it, the fact that the thing she'd wanted the most was the one thing she couldn't even enjoy once she got it? Sure, there was a way of seeing the ever-lasting, unearthly beauty she'd craved as a human, but that always came at the cost of human lives. There was no real bright side to any of this – ever.

As if this were the most natural thing to do, whoever was driving the black Audi parked it right behind Demetri's rental. They exited the car slowly and carefully, actually looking sort of like human beings: the driver, a stunningly beautiful woman who was relatively short, curvy, and had long and dark locks; the three people from the backseat, of whom she knew Jane and Alec, but not the petite yet muscular, short-haired girl; the man riding shotgun, relatively tall and thin and blond and straight as an arrow – Caius. That was his name. Bella remembered him. He'd advocated for her death, back in Volterra.

The sky was overcast, so no direct sunshine hit what little of their skin was exposed, but Bella was pretty sure they were wearing foundation, anyway, just in case. Those people were, if Demetri was anything to go by, crazily prepared for any eventuality. Demetri was the one who opened the door and let them inside, leading them to the living room. They were joined by Irina and Jasper and then just stood there for a moment, sizing each other up.

Finally, Demetri said, "Did you have a good flight?"

"It was uneventful," the short-haired girl replied.

"Where's the human woman?" Jane said, looking about. She was out of those impractical robes Bella remembered seeing her in and in a very mundane shirt-and-jacket plus jeans combo, while her brother wore a sweatshirt and jeans. Everyone was in regular people clothes, actually, with Caius at the most formal, looking like a banker in his shirtsleeves and leisure suit.

"Upstairs, unconscious," Demetri said, sounding a little tense. He was in fresh clothes, too. They'd all showered and changed to get rid of the grime and blood and soot that had been covering them.

The curvy woman's eyes flitted over to Bella before returning to Demetri. "Introductions, dear?"

These were quickly taken care of. The curvy woman was Chelsea, the short-haired one Corin. Bella had a feeling that those weren't their actual birth-names. Not that it mattered. Not that she cared.

"You're the shield," Caius said, looking her up and down as if sizing up a pig for slaughter. He was exceptionally handsome with his sharp, aquiline, ascetic features and long, elegant limbs. Like Demetri, he wore a scarf. Other than was the case with Demetri, though, he was clearly trying to hide a huge, jagged scar. This was still somewhat visible as it covered his throat up to his jaw and the back of his neck. It didn't look like Jasper's scars, either, but more like something other than a vampire had tried to bite his head off.

"I'm immune to mental powers, but not physical ones," Bella said, returning his look unflinchingly. "That's all I know."

"And you," Caius said, locking eyes with a very relaxed-looking Jasper, "I've heard all about _you_."

Was that good or bad? Bella had no clue.

"Would you like a demonstration?" Jasper said, smiling sweetly. Bella had yet to see him nervous or shaken or apprehensive about anything. Like this, filled with so much living human blood, he was almost invincible. When Caius nodded once after exchanging a little look with Demetri, Jasper stepped forward deliberately slowly, reached out, touched Caius's arm, and said, "Sweet dreams."

As if someone had unplugged him, Caius went down like a sack of potatoes. His companions – well, all but Chelsea – flinched heavily, but stayed where they were when Demetri raised his hands in a placatory gesture.

A strange silence ensued, whilst everyone stared at the unconscious Caius in unmitigated awe.

"How long until he wakes?" Corin said quietly. She hunched down next to him and tenderly brushed some of his fair hair out of his pale forehead.

"If I just leave him like this, an hour, two at most," Jasper said, hunkered down, briefly touched Caius's ankle, and got to his feet again.

Caius's eyes flew open. He drew in a sharp breath and shot up, nearly colliding with Corin. He stared at Jasper, wide-eyed, completely stunned. Then, he shook his head, composed himself, and said, "I _slept_."

Jasper's little smile grew, actually reaching his eyes this time. "Yes," he said.

Bella could see how people found him obnoxious and insufferable, but she herself did not feel that way about him at all. To her, he was incredibly fascinating – everything about him, really, but his unperturbed nonchalance and how much at ease he was with himself most of all. Also, she could get behind his attitude. Would she be any different, were she that powerful? Remembering how it had felt like to be unconscious for the first time in months, she had to answer that question with a resounding 'no'. Jasper knew exactly how good he was and had zero intention of pretending otherwise. That was honesty, right there. Bella could appreciate that. She could appreciate it very much.

Caius's thin eyebrows shot up. "I hadn't slept in over two thousand years."

"What did it feel like?" Corin said, touching his arm, staring at him with something akin to worry. It was hard to tell.

"Like being human," Caius said lowly, as if he were having trouble believing what he'd just experienced. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and then focussed on Jasper again. "Demetri says you already helped our efforts and wish to continue doing so. Is that correct?"

"It is," Jasper said. In a flash, he was by Bella's side and placed a heavy hand on her slim shoulder. "The same goes for the lovely Miss Swan, by the way. If you want to enlist my assistance, I strongly suggest you enlist hers, as well."

The address was both technically wrong and a little bit sexist, but Bella didn't care a lick about any of that, anymore. She couldn't remember ever having cared about this kind of thing, anyway, if she were to be perfectly candid with herself.

"We could always use a good shield," Chelsea said, shrugging when all eyes were on her. "Yes, I know she doesn't know how to control her skill, yet, but all shields are able to project beyond themselves. Bella here won't be the one exception to the rule. Besides, we kind of need her to get rid of the dhampir. She could be of use with others of the kind, too, if she proves useful in this case."

Bella hadn't even pondered the possibility that the Volturi might still be planning to kill her. That made Jasper's little sales pitch oddly moving. He didn't need to do this, did he? Well, knowing him the way she did, he most likely had an ulterior motive, but it didn't really matter. He was someone this ancient Roman guy wanted on his team, and Bella was part of the deal. It wasn't as flattering as being courted solely for her own specialness (and knowing that 'shields' were a relatively common thing was even less flattering), but it was much better than being deemed redundant.

"Very well," Caius said, looking from Jasper to Bella and back again. "You will accompany Demetri and help him capture the dhampir and kill its acolytes. Once you've succeeded and he's deemed you trustworthy, you both may return to Volterra with him."

"Thank you," Jasper said, briefly bowing his head. "We won't disappoint. Bella, darling?"

"Of course not," she said, marvelling at how convinced that sounded. Was she relieved? Excited? Nervous? No. At the moment, all she could say with any certainty was that she felt sated and rested and physically at peace. It was better than nothing, in any case.

"Now, we must breach an equally important subject," Caius said, slowly turning to look squarely at Demetri. "Your new friends, the werewolves, and how I will personally kill every last one of them."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

 **1** **Leah finally managed to drag herself away from the shower at some point** , put on some fresh clothes, brush her hair out, and leave the bathroom to face the world again. Unsurprisingly, Sam was there, as were her mom and Billy. Sighing inwardly, she joined them in the living room and dropped herself on the old but well-maintained couch. She'd always loved so much to spend lazy hours lounging on that thing, reading a good book. Better times. Great times. For about a minute or so, they all just sat there – Leah and Sue on the couch, Billy in his wheelchair opposite them, Sam standing around and brooding.

Finally, Leah could take it no longer. She threw up her hands, rolled her eyes, and said, "Bring it, guys. I can take it."

"It wasn't your fault," Billy said, his tone allowing for no protest. "None of it. Stop blaming yourself. You did the best you could with what little you had. That was brave."

Leah couldn't even say why, but those words made her feel so, so heavy. "Can we put off the heart-to-heart until I've caught some shut-eye? I haven't slept in a while."

"None of us have," Sam said. When she looked up, she saw that he was glowering at her. "Look, I know it must've been awful, being forced to work with that…that _leech_ , but you had no choice. I'm willing to accept that."

Something about how he said it made her want to chuck a lamp at his stupid head. Had he always been this condescending? Good gravy. "I have always had a choice, Sam. I'm not a damsel in distress who reacts to things and gets pushed around by the powers that be. I took action. Demetri helped me. He didn't force me to do anything. We teamed up to stop you idiots from killing yourselves by attacking super-charged Cullens. Don't presume to tell me what my choices were."

A heavy, awkward silence ensued.

"I was just trying to hold out an olive branch," Sam snapped.

It took Leah all she had not to roll her eyes. "Don't, okay? You made your choices; I made mine. The mess that resulted is on all of us. We all have to deal with it. Just stop it with the pack-leader shit. I'm my own pack-leader, now, and I am _so_ not in the mood for one of your little lectures." She was her own leader until the vampire venom wore off, at least. No-one knew what was in store for her, then.

"What do you think your vampire friend is gonna do next?" Sue cut in, before a full-fledged argument could unfold.

Leah shifted her weight to get a proper look at her mom – her poor mom, who had so much crap flying her way, it was a marvel she was still functioning. The least Leah could do for her was respect the fact that she obviously didn't want to talk about Seth. "He wants to hunt the death-baby and its drones down," Leah said, after discreetly clearing her sore throat. "I'm going with him."

"Yeah, I figured," Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Leah, that has got to be the single most _stupid_ -"

"I didn't ask for your opinion," she interrupted coldly. "You have your responsibilities here. I have to do something useful, but I'm of no use if I sit around at home. I can help catch that freak-"

"And my son," Billy said quietly. Everyone looked at him. He was calm and composed, but it wasn't hard to recognise the colossal effort that this took him. "If the vampires go alone, they'll kill him without thinking twice about it. You need to be there. You need to be that leech's conscience. You need to. _I_ need you to."

"If that freak's even capable of having a conscience," Sue said grimly, shaking her head, looking down at her hands in her lap, her face a grimace of repulsion.

"He is," Leah said, briefly touching her mother's upper arm. "He could've killed Seth and claimed it to be self-defence. He didn't. He helped some of the children make it through the battle alive and in one piece. He won't kill Jacob unless there's no other choice." She locked eyes with Billy again. "I won't, either. I promise you that." She raised her hand to scratch the back of her neck, but thought better of it when her fingertips touched the fresh bandage. The itching was pretty bad, but scratching the wound open wouldn't exactly help much, in the long run. She sighed. What was she even doing, distracting herself with this bullshit? Feeling heavy and useless and as old as time, she said, "It's about the only thing I _can_ promise you, Billy."

"That's all very intense," Sam said, "but what about those Italian vamp government types coming over to clean house? As far as I know, they didn't make any deal to work with us."

"They didn't," Leah said, unable to stop herself from smiling a little. She couldn't even really say why. It was gallows humour, probably, which was a side-effect of several fuses blowing in her head. "At least our lives keep on being not boring."

* * *

 **2** **"It would be a huge mistake," Demetri told Caius, holding his ground with ease, arms crossed, brows furrowed.** "We are only as good as our word. I made a promise – a reasonable one, at that, which can only be beneficial to us."

"They're werewolves, Demetri," Caius said, exasperated, looking as if he were trying to glare him into compliance. "Our _enemies_. That's the only reason they even exist: to kill vampires. How can you defend such abominable creatures? We'll only be safe once each and every one of them is dead and gone." Visibly irritated, he scratched at the scar tissue covering his throat, as if he were actually trying to get rid of an itch. Maybe he was, in his mind. Psychosomatic ailments were not unheard of amongst vampires.

They were all standing in sort of a circle in the Swan living room, which probably looked pretty ridiculous from an outside perspective, but Irina didn't really find it in herself to even chuckle wearily. During the earlier exchange, she'd only stood there in silence, contemplating the distinct possibility that she was about to die a very gruesome death.

"I know you hate werewolves for a very good reason, but these are completely different and have nothing at all to do with the ones we've met before," Demetri went on firmly. There was something to be said about a man who stood by his promises and deals this vehemently, even against the power of his superiors. "They will live their lives in peace if we leave these lands. In a few generations, they won't even be able to turn into wolves anymore unless constantly exposed to vampires, and that can easily be averted. They pose no threat to us. On the contrary: we need their assistance to regain control over this messed-up situation."

"They pose no threat to us? Well, that's not entirely true, if you'll forgive the objection," Jasper threw in casually, as if this whole situation were no more serious than a political debate on TV. "They _did_ off a bunch of my former friends just a few hours ago with relative ease."

What was wrong with him? He had the power to calm everyone down, and yet, here he was, just watching, even adding fuel to the flames, not even trying to hide the fact that he was enjoying himself quite thoroughly. Irina remembered how he'd tried to make her attack him, just so that he'd have an excuse to kill her. He was such an asshole. It was so, so infuriating, watching a nice guy like Demetri bending backwards to prevent a genocide, while Jasper here just casually screwed with everyone with impunity because one of the Volturi leaders wanted to add him to his coven. They were the vampire government. Where was the justice in that behaviour?

"They killed your friends because they and you _broke their rules, first_ ," Demetri shot back. It was the first time Irina had ever witnessed him at all close to losing his composure. He wiped his right hand across his mouth, took a deep breath, and shook his head, before re-focussing his attention on Caius. Again, he raised his hands in a gesture that was clearly meant to signal patience. "There's been an abundance of unnecessary deaths around these parts. What do you think is going to happen if we slaughter an entire Native American society? They already lost a number of their children. That fact alone will not escape public scrutiny. Imagine how big the media interest will be if all of them die. Let's not make it any worse than it already is; I _implore_ you."

"Also, they make pretty strong allies," Bella said, calmly facing every single one of the others, one by one. "They're faster than we are – a lot faster. I'm a new-born, and any one of them is able to outrun me with ease. Working with us, it gives us all the advantages, including protection from precogs such as Alice."

Alec's teenage-looking, slightly round and cutesy little face crunched up in what could only be interpreted as reasonable doubt. "What makes you think this would work on any other vampire with psychic powers?"

Bella met his look squarely and shrugged. "If all shields such as me function similarly, it stands to reason to believe most precogs have similarly working gifts, doesn't it?"

Wow. That was actually smart and made sense. Bella's cognitive abilities really had improved ever since she gorged herself on living human blood. Just thinking about blood made Irina's throat burn. Even not breathing, she could hear the heartbeat of poor, sedated Renée Dwyer, who was upstairs, lying in her bed. Irina was still full, but paradoxically, it was harder to resist her thirst now than it had been when she'd still been clean. What a wretched situation this was.

A few tense seconds ticked by, during which Caius and Demetri just stared at each other, each clearly willing the other to back down.

At length, Caius said, "Why exactly are you this hell-bent on protecting these animals? Is there something going on that I should know about? Tell me, is this vehemence of yours a result of personal stakes, or are you really just worried about our existence being exposed to humanity at large? Unfortunately, I am rather inclined to believe the former."

All the muscles in Demetri's face tightened. He took a step back. "I am a man of my word. That is all that is going on."

"Really? I don't believe you. It pains me to say this, but I really do not believe a single word coming out of your mouth right now," Caius said flatly.

Chelsea exchanged a little look with Demetri and then made a face at Caius. "This is ridiculous, boss. Your werewolf paranoia is getting the best of you. He would never lie to us – not him. All he's doing is what he always does: his duty." Did she sound a little apprehensive underneath that good-humoured, casual surface behaviour? Yes, she did.

"We must make sure," Corin said tonelessly. She was practically glued to Caius, which, to Irina, was a little weird. It wasn't any of her business, though.

Caius nodded once. "Jane."

"I'm sorry, Demetri," Jane said blankly.

A split second later, Demetri doubled over, face contorted in agony, and went down on his knees, pressing his fists against his midsection. Irina started. Jasper was quicker. He darted over to where she was, put both arms around her, and crushed her harshly against himself, basically immobilising her. Immediately, she felt serenity washing over her like a tidal wave. Despite herself, she went limp in his arms, leaning her head backwards against his collarbone. The creepy thing was, almost everyone – all except Corin – reacted basically the same way: their shoulders slumped, their arms dropped to their sides, their heads bowed.

"Come on, people," Jasper said, calm as a summer's morning. "There's really no need for any of this nonsense. He's telling the truth. This is all about keeping the peace. Law and Order: Forks, Washington."

"Are you _serious_?" Chelsea said, eyebrows raised, not even trying to hide her bafflement and irritation.

He flashed a bright smile. "As a heart-attack, honey."

What was up with him? None of this was particularly amusing, and yet he seemed to be having the time of his life.

Demetri scrambled back up on his feet and adjusted his shirt and jacket. "I _am_ telling the truth," he said, exchanging a meaningful look with Chelsea, who didn't seem at all happy with the turn of events. "I honestly believe that we are better off cooperating with the Quileute wolves rather than killing them all off." He waited, but no-one said anything in reply. "Times are changing. You want secrecy? Causing another massacre in the same area this soon would be an unmitigated disaster."

"I agree," Jane said, as if she hadn't just tortured one of her own to the ground with a single thought.

"I do, as well," her brother said, reaching out to give her hand a little squeeze.

"Most of us are on the same page here because it's the only thing that makes sense," Chelsea said, giving her superior a piqued look. "Caius? Please be reasonable."

"You can let go of me, now," Irina told Jasper, trying hard to stay calm. Being crushed like that to another person against her will wasn't exactly pleasant. Also, she couldn't really say that she was overly fond of the little bastard.

"You can also stop it with the brainwashing," Corin said, giving Jasper a black look.

Jasper let go of Irina, who hastily stepped away from him, and said, "All right. Fair enough. Let's get one thing straight, here, though, folks: I don't care one single bit about that pack of dogs; I don't. As far as I'm concerned, they can all go die in a fire. They might just as well live for the next five-thousand years. I don't _care_. What I do care about, what we all care about is staying alive – or undead, if that suits you lovely people better. It doesn't matter what you want to call it. Now, will letting the wolves live prolong our own lives? For a while, it will. Maybe they'll decide to try and hunt us all down once this cluster-fuck's been resolved. Maybe they won't. Fact is, though, right now, we can use their help for the current clean-up job." He glanced at Demetri, who was frowning at him. "Long story short, I whole-heartedly advocate for allowing the feisty young Miss Clearwater to join us on our little hunting trip."

Irina stared at him sideways, torn between disgust and approval. Yes, Jasper was an asshole and a bit (okay, probably a lot) of a sadist. He was also right. Besides, he knew perfectly well that Caius wanted to snatch him up and shanghai him to Volterra, which meant that if Jasper wanted a little leeway, he'd get it. He couldn't just be tortured into submission because his gift required his cooperation, because he could will even Jane into not wanting to pain him, and because he might actually be immune to any kind of coercion at all due to the fact that he was a complete and raging psycho.

That last bit, however, was only Irina's pet theory and very much up for debate.

Caius let this all sink in for a moment, before exchanging a little nod with Corin, briefly locking eyes with Chelsea, and then telling Demetri, "I will put the survival of this tribe in your hands. Take this as a test of your loyalty to us all. You have the opportunity to prove that you are not defending these animals out of personal attachment to this one female. You have the opportunity to prove that you are doing this for the sensible reasons you have listen. Once you have successfully caught the dhampir and eliminated the people it has infected, you're going to kill this female. If you do, I'll know that you were being honest with me and only thinking about the well-being and prosperity of our kind. If you don't, I'll know that you were lying out of selfish reasons. Should that be the case, all the wolves will pay the price, and that will be your punishment." He paused for a moment, probably waiting for a reply, but none came. "Do you understand?"

The silence that ensued was thick and heavy. No-one dared to open their mouths.

Finally, Demetri nodded once, curtly, and said, "Perfectly."

"Great," Jasper said, smiling again. "Can we now get a move on before the authorities show up to question Bella's mother? I really don't want to end up on national television by accident."

"Absolutely," Caius said, trying and failing to return the expression. Alternatively, maybe he really did want to look like he'd just sucked on a lemon. "I really look forward to meeting this legendary Miss Clearwater, who's been the cause for so much inter-species turmoil."

* * *

 **3** **Leah had eaten a sandwich and then immediately hit the hay, because she was dead on her feet.** Not only hadn't she slept properly in who knew how long, but the vampire poison in her blood was still bogging her down. The neck-wound didn't help any, either. The minute she lay down on her bed, the moment she rested her head on her pillow, she fell into a black, deep, dreamless sleep.

At first, she didn't even notice that someone was shaking her. When she finally did emerge, it was a laborious, slow affair. At length, she managed to open her eyes, blink, focus, and look up at the intruder. It was her mom.

"Honey? I'm so sorry to wake you, but we really need you outside."

Leah rubbed at her eyes, shook her head, covered her mouth with both hands, and yawned. "What…I…what? How late…how long have I…"

"Little more than three hours. I'm really sorry, but you have to come outside." Sue's complexion was uncharacteristically ashen. She looked like she were sick.

A cold, acidic pang of adrenaline coursed through Leah's veins. She bolted upright. "Did something happen to Seth? Did-"

"No, no, he's…safe," Sue said, closing her eyes for a few seconds and shaking her head. "It's your new friend."

Staring at her mom with wide eyes, her heart thumping, Leah said, "Demetri? He's _here_?"

Sue's expression hardened, even though she still looked rather queasy. "Yes, and he's brought some family."

Holy crap. A thousand thoughts swirled about in her brain all at once. Were they here to kill everyone? Were they here to negotiate? What the fuck? " _Damn it!_ " As soon as Sue stepped aside, Leah swung her legs out of bed, pushed herself up, tottered a little, tugged down on her shirt, sorted out her hair, and nodded. Pain shot through her skull and her stomach lurched. Her neck was burning. Her limbs felt heavy as lead. Catching a break had become a bit of a pipe dream, hadn't it? Goddamn. "Let's go."

They were all standing outside of Sue's house, acting out the stupidest Mexican standoff in the history of the planet: Sam and the remaining wolves against a jolly old group of marblepires. Sam was the only one in human form, but he looked as if he were a second away from phasing.

"The _fuck's_ going on, here?" Leah stumbled to Sam's side, glanced at him, then scanned the little leech crowd.

Demetri was there, looking very uncomfortable, as well as her good pal Jasper and Irina, a.k.a. Alaska Blonde (and thank the self-proclaimed Master of Wit™ Jacob for that silly little nickname). Bell-Bell was there, too, a bored expression on her rearranged doll's face. It still was hard getting used to that. She was the only leech Leah had known as a human, and seeing what vampirism did to a person's looks alone was ungodly creepy. The other vampires must be Demetri's friends from Italy. There were five of them: Tall-ish Blond Dude, Short Busty Lady, Short Skinny Lady, _The Shining_ Twins. Great. Awesome. Now they could start a bonfire and tell each other ghost stories! Yay!

God, _really_? Was she fucking unable to turn off the sarcasm, now? This was so dumb.

That was when she realised that everyone was sort of staring at her in awkward silence. Oh. Dang. She'd never really been the type to make stellar impromptu speeches. After clearing her throat and stupidly shuffling her feet in the gravel, she crossed her arms, jotted out her chin, and said, "Uhm…can I help you?" It was either that or 'take me to your leader'.

"So, you're the famous Miss Clearwater," Blond Dude proclaimed, speaking with such a snobby upper class English accent, it put even Demetri to shame. What was _with_ these people? Seriously.

"And you, pal, are trespassing," she said, glancing up at Sam again.

"He wants to make a deal," Sam spat contemptuously. He was shaking slightly. It wasn't as if Leah could blame him for being pissed off, but he could at least try to rein himself in a little. Christ.

"Yes," Blond Dude replied, sneering. It was probably supposed to be a smile, though, in all fairness. Impossible to tell. He raised one hand to adjust the unnecessary scarf around his neck. Everyone could still see that he was trying to hide a humongous scar under that. "We're all facing a common threat to our survival. I propose that we should…how did you put it?"

"Team up," Demetri said, his eyes trained on Leah. Oh man, he was not happy at all. What was going on, here? Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Yes, team up," Blond Dude said snootily, curving the corners of his mouth up in that weird smile-thing again. Was that supposed to look reassuring? Hoo boy. "Demetri will track the dhampir and its protectors. He'll be accompanied by Isabella Swan, Jasper Whitlock, and your Miss Clearwater."

The wolves growled. His face twisted into a mask of pure loathing, Sam said, "You can't just waltz onto our land and _boss my people around!_ _You_ -"

"Sam, _I volunteered_ ," Leah snapped at him through clenched teeth. "Don't you get it? We're burning daylight. I don't like this any more than you do, but we need to catch the death-baby before it enslaves the entire goddamn planet. Now please, just quit it with the fantastical racism and let's get this shit over with! I'm so tired of _all of this!_ " Wow. That just burst out of her. Okay, then. It felt good, though. Naturally, everyone stared at her again. She took a deep, trembling breath. Her neck-wound was throbbing dully and itching like a motherfucker. "Come on, guys. Yeah, it sucks. No, there's no other way around it. Blond Dude, just say your piece and let's all agree to share the sandbox as long as we're forced to, okay?" She clapped her hands together, feeling silly and exposed. "Right."

Blond Dude just looked at her in impassive silence for a moment, before saying, "Very well. Chelsea" – He glanced at Short Busty Lady – "will take Irina Horváthová here back to Volterra and…keep her under observation."

That little pause and Irina's pained face did not bode well at all. Leah couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for her. She still had Irina's phone, too, come to think about it.

"What about the rest of you?" Sam said, motioning at the remaining leeches.

It was the barely-teenaged boy who replied, "We're insurance," smiling creepily. There was no other way of putting it. That kid looked even less human than the demon-spawn, and that was saying something. It was creepy. It was creepy as all fallout.

Leah's skin broke out in gooseflesh. It wasn't too hard to deduce that this little shit must have some horrifying, _horrifying_ supernatural ability. "You mean, you'll hold everyone here hostage until we're done cleaning up the Cullens' mess."

"Yes," barely-teenaged girl said, sounding infuriatingly self-satisfied, "and before you start complaining, allow us to demonstrate why there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. Alec? Would you please?"

"Gladly, sister dear," the boy said.

From one second to the next, Leah was blind. She wasn't just blind, though: she was…nothing. She was gone. There was no sensation, no sound, no sight, no taste, no body _oh God no body what had happened to her body oh God_ no anything nothing nothing _nothing_. It was as if she'd been _unmade_. She wanted to thrash, to scream, to fight, but couldn't. There was nothing. _She_ was nothing. It was all gone. Was this death? Was this hell? Had to be. Had to. Blackness formlessness no anything nothing at all anywhere not now not ever it was hell it was-

Her senses returned with a jolt. She inhaled sharply, tottered, fell on her ass. Her whole body was shaking. Her skin was covered in cold sweat. Her heart was thundering against her ribcage. Just in time, she turned her head to the side as her meagre breakfast forced its way back up her gullet. After wiping her mouth with the back of her trembling hand, she blinked tears away and looked about. Everyone was shaky, disoriented, panting. Some wolves were lying on the floor, whimpering.

Good Lord.

That little shit had incapacitated all of them with his mind. This was…that was an ability powerful enough to rival Jasper's. Demetri had had the right of it: the wolves didn't stand a chance against these monsters – not if the monsters saw them coming. Fucking hell. She allowed Sam to pull her to her feet without protest.

"That wasn't necessary," Demetri said, giving Leah an apologetic look if there ever had been one.

She couldn't help but get the impression that there was something going on with him that went way beyond disapproving of supernatural torture. This couldn't be the first time he'd witnessed this kind of thing, after all, and he did work for these people because he believed it was the right thing to do. Then again, maybe she was reading too much into all of this because the two of them had sort of bonded and she didn't want to think of him as being on these assholes' side. It couldn't hurt to keep in mind that nice manners or not, this guy was still a blood-sucking, undead abomination.

"It was necessary," Short Skinny Lady said, deadpan, and touched Blond Dude's arm. Were those two an item or was she simply his bodyguard? Did it even matter? Nope. No, it did not. "Now they understand."

"I can't wait to see you undead pieces of shit off our land," Sam said, voice tremulous. He was shaking pretty badly, now.

Unable to help herself, Leah glanced at Jasper, who was very clearly having a good ole time, smirking like the smug little motherfucker that he was. Bella was right by his side, not emoting at all, but sort of watching him – not blinking, not breathing. Were _those_ two an item? If they were, it would be kind of hilarious, given all the melodrama she'd cooked up during Wardo's short-lived absence. It had to be funny. The reason for this was simple: if Leah couldn't laugh about the mere possibility that Bella had already gotten over Wardo a few hours after his demise, she'd flip out. Badly. Jacob had been sucked into the whirlwind of manipulation and insanity by that selfish bitch, and everything else that had happened was a direct consequence of that. Now Bell-Bell was just standing there, all besties with fucking Jasper of all people, possibly even crushing on him, and all that one-true-love bullshit was null and void? She didn't look overly heartbroken, in any case, no matter what else was going on.

God, how much Leah wished she could just rip that dumb bimbo's head off and toss it into a volcano – hers and Jasper's. She caught herself wishing leeches still had souls, too, because those two at least deserved to burn in hell for all eternity.

"Once the dhampir situation is resolved, we'll leave," Blond Dude said calmly. "Believe me, I have no desire to spend a second longer in this gods-forsaken wasteland you call home than absolutely necessary."

"And I hope that one day, you'll all die screaming – every last one of you freaks," Sam said, and looked down at Leah. "You should go pack your stuff. The sooner this crap-fest gets started, the sooner it'll be over."

This time, she had no desire to tell him to stop bossing her around, because she really couldn't find it in herself to disagree with him. After nodding once, she stiffly headed back inside the house to grab a backpack. There was nothing better to do on a lazy afternoon, anyway.

* * *

 **4** **Bitch Barbie From Hell didn't have to sleep or even sit down, but everyone else needed their rest.** She of course didn't have a single fuck to give about Jacob or poor Charlie, but she did care about Nessie, and Nessie needed her sleep. Therefore, after running for hours and hours, they decided to camp right where they were, somewhere halfway through the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. Barbie had suggested a motel, but Jacob had reminded her that it would be criminally stupid to show up in public like this: a woman with bloodstained clothes, a little girl, an unconscious and obviously wounded dude in a police uniform, and a brawny guy wearing nothing but cut-off jeans (and thank God he'd been smart enough to tie those around his leg, as a precaution, before taking off). No-one would buy any sob story they might tell a motel clerk. It was well possible that this morning's snafu was all over the news, and you didn't need to be Einstein to connect the dots if a ragtag group of badly beaten people waltzed into your respectable establishment.

No, a motel would not do. Instead, they settled down amongst the trees. Barbie took off to get some fresh clothes and a first-aid kit for Charlie, as well as potable water and a tent, or something. She was quick as lightning and less conspicuous by herself. People would probably still notice the state her clothes were in, but it was either risking that or letting Charlie die. Jacob knew that she didn't give a rat's ass, but he did, and so, he insisted.

When night rolled around, Barbie was back with whatever supplies fit into her stony arms and into the brand-new backpack she was donning. This included a sleeping bag for Charlie and one for Nessie, as well as a shirt and shoes for Jacob. Once set up, Nessie ate half of a small deer Jacob had hunted for her, and finally went to sleep after crying for over an hour about how disgusting that had tasted. Thank God. Jacob had then helped himself to some venison and settled down next to Charlie, so he could change the bandage on his forehead and check his vital signs.

"He's still alive and he'll stay that way. Stop fretting," Barbie, who was kneeling by Nessie and lovingly smoothing out her hair, said.

"He should've woken up by now."

"He did sort of wake up a few times, so he's not in a coma. Stop fussing and go to sleep. I can't have you slacking when I need you."

Jacob glared at her. "How selfless of you."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I don't care what you think. I don't want to be doing this, but Nessie needs both of us, and we need to keep our wits if we want to outmanoeuvre that Volturi tracker." She snorted derisively and shook her head. "I can't believe Jasper betrayed us."

Jacob made a face. "Really? What exactly was it again that made him seem trustworthy to you in the first place? The fact that we was nailing Manic Pixie Dream Corpse? The fact that he was heroin on legs? His homicidal tendencies? His blatant sadism? His nickname isn't Creepula for nothing."

The look she gave him was cold enough to freeze hell over. It was pretty dark, but not dark enough to render him blind. "Tasteless _and_ vulgar. Typical behaviour for a dog."

"Bite me, you hateful bitch," he said, lay down on the cold forest ground, and closed his eyes.

"Not if you paid me. At least not until we get to Tijuana."

Despite himself, he took a deep breath, and said, "You really think that the whole Mexican turf-war gig will be enough to confuse the walking GPS?"

"For a while. It'll give us some time to prepare our defences, at least," Barbie said, quiet and thoughtful. "We need to gather more vampires. We need to amass an army. If we're lucky, we'll get some with abilities to rival our enemies'. It's the only way we'll be able to defeat both your fleabag friends and the Volturi."

He really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but remembered that Nessie didn't like it when they fought, and swallowed the reply down. Instead, he said, "It's a risk, you know, exposing her to strange leeches."

"It's the only chance we have, and you know it." Man, did she sound pissy.

Man, did he despise and hate her undead marble guts. "I know it."

"Shut up and sleep, now. I desperately need a break from your voice, even if I can't get rid of smelling you."

"Do the world a favour and go die in a fire," he said, yawned, turned on his side, and drifted off almost immediately. All in all, it hadn't been such a bad day, had it? At least Nessie was alive and well. In the end, that was all that mattered. In the end, it was the one thing that he would burn the world down to ensure.

* * *

 **5** **The clean-up operation was taken out of Demetri's hands, as he did what he was told and prepared for travelling south.** Caius and the others would get rid of the rental cars, would get the dazed and confused Renée to the airport, and would perform a little disappearing act that would take themselves out of the spotlight. Of course they'd travelled to America carrying fresh false documentation for Demetri, as well as for the vampires who were supposed to accompany him back to Italy once this whole mess had been taken care of. That made the whole song and dance about recruiting Jasper and Bella a little pointless, but those two had needed the farce, and it was never bad to walk into a situation fully prepared for any outcome.

The Volturi were a well-oiled machine of efficiency, and Demetri himself had been on countless expeditions over the many centuries of his life, both by himself and with an entourage. He knew the drill; it wasn't too complicated. The trick was sticking to himself, drawing as little attention as possible, and not leaving too big a paper trail. He rid himself of the pre-paid phone he'd been using up until now and activated a new one. He'd already burned the old passport. He made sure that he'd left nothing lying around at Charlie Swan's house. Those were small precautions that came naturally to him by now. Being thorough and careful was half the battle in his line of work.

The demon-spawn (was that Leah's terminology or his?) warped his tracking abilities a little bit, but didn't render them useless. He could still tell that it and its bodyguards were moving southward. He'd only be able to pinpoint their direct location once they'd stopped running, of course, and they needed to stop running at some point. It was in the nature of the dhampir to gather a following of blindly devoted acolytes, and for that, it needed to be at least somewhat stationary. Even if they kept on the move, Demetri would, at some point, catch them, though it would take longer that way. The result was always the same. He never failed. All he could do was hope that the dhampir's powers would not grow too much in the interim. The chances of that happening, however, were very slim, and he knew that.

It was the early afternoon when he and the others set out from La Push and started driving south. The first thing he did before their departure was convince Leah to convince her mother to lend them her car. Bella had objected that they were faster on their feet, but Demetri had countered that this was pointless, as he needed time to track and correct directions, which was easier this way, since he wasn't by himself. It was less conspicuous, too, if they all just behaved discreetly instead of running in and out of forests and cities and interstates.

Therefore, it was about two p.m. when they set out in Sue Clearwater's car: Demetri behind the wheel, Leah riding shotgun, Jasper and Bella in the back. They had been driving south for about half an hour when the sun broke through the clouds. Immediately, radiance filled up the car as the light hit the faces of the two vampires sitting in the back.

Leah grimaced and glanced over her shoulder. "For fuck's sake. Go disco-ball _somewhere_ else!" It didn't take a genius to gather that she tended to get irritable when weary.

"We would if we could, darling," Jasper drawled, undoubtedly trying to rile her up, "but I forgot my make-up kit in the smouldering ruins of my former home. You two remember to pack any?"

"Check the bag on the rear window shelf," Demetri said curtly. He was so not in the mood for playing mediator between these people who hated each other from the bottom of their hearts. First of all, he was way too busy trying to keep track of the erratic movements of their quarry. Second of all...

…well, second of all, there was the directive he'd got from Caius and that he couldn't stop thinking about. In all his life, he'd never been caught in a conflict of interest of this magnitude. Usually, all he needed to do was the right thing, and the right thing was always simple and clear-cut. Vampires broke the rules and Demetri took care of them and the mess they'd created. That was all there was to it. That was all there'd ever been to it.

This new situation, however, was far more complicated than that. Yes, werewolves were the vampires' natural enemies, no matter what kind of werewolves they were. Yes, these wolves hated their kind and wanted them all dead. Yes, witnesses were always a liability. On the other hand, so many things had gone wrong in that area during the past week, more deaths would only draw more attention. The whole time the Cullens had stayed in Forks, they'd been extremely suspicious, and now they were all gone, while over twenty people had been viciously murdered? Leaving the wolves alone was definitely smarter in the long run than killing them.

The problem was Caius's werewolf phobia and his general distrustful nature. Someone forged a temporary alliance with a wolf? Oh, they must be a lying, traitorous, dirty turncoat with a selfish agenda! Now, what the hell was Demetri supposed to do? What was the right thing? The truth was, he liked Leah. She was smart and strong and courageous and proactive and just plain decent. All she'd done ever since he'd met her was be helpful and try to save lives. He didn't want to simply murder her in cold blood for no reason but his superior's racism and paranoia issues. The world would be in a worse state for losing a good person like Leah; it always was. Demetri should know: he'd seen many good people die over the years, and the world had been poorer for it every single time.

On the other hand, if he didn't do it, the entire tribe would be wiped out, and didn't the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few? Leah, unsuspectingly sitting next to him and trying not to doze off with limited success, would appreciate the _Star Trek_ reference. He listened to her strong and steady heartbeat and, for the first time in a long time, he caught himself wishing that he had one, too. It was a little pathetic, but he couldn't help it. It would be nice to have some physical reaction to the uneasiness and fear poisoning his insides. There was no easy way out of this one. No, there was no easy way out, and at some point, he would have to make a very difficult decision. Thankfully, there was some time left. He'd try not to worry about any of this until he absolutely had to.

As Leah yawned heartily for about the fifth time in twice as many minutes, he took off his jacket, even though it was weirdly cold in the car, and handed it to her, saying, "Here. Use this as a pillow and sleep a little. You need it." For a moment, he thought that she would either protest the suggestion or make some comment on how cloyingly sweet his jacket probably smelled to her, but she did nothing of the kind.

"Thanks," she said, folded the jacket, and tucked it under the side of her face as she leaned her head against the passenger-side window. "Please wake me when we get wherever."

"I will. Just sleep, now. We'll be on the road for a few hours."

Not a minute later, she was breathing slowly and steadily, and her heartbeat slowed down. She trusted him. After what they'd been through together, there was no reason why she shouldn't, right? Right.

Suppressing the useless urge to take a deep breath, he focussed on tracking the dhampir again, whilst Leah slept soundly and the other two chatted amongst themselves. For now, there was nothing else for him to do – for now. He'd do his duty, though, should the day for a decision arrive, whatever that duty might be. He'd decide what the greater good was and do what he had to, regardless of his personal feelings. Doing whatever was right was the most important thing in the world to him, and that was not about to change. It was the reason he believed he deserved to exist.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: By now, you propably know that I'm a sucker for quiet character-building moments, so expect a lot of these in this installment. Also, I sort of fixed another few of SMeyer's research fails (names and hairstyles), and added a little bit of characterisation to her main villain (my main hero, btw. Yay, we're going to Volterra!). She never bothered to flesh out anyone, and I thought that super-charging only our friend (frienemy?) Jasper would be dumb, so I'm powering up others, as well, just for the fun of it. Since SMeyer only ever name-dropped a handful of Volturi characters and gave them zilch personality, I'm trying to correct that, as well. If you don't remember the ones she did name-drop, Chelsea is the one that can emotionally bond you to other people, and Corin is the walking happy-pill - that means she makes you content with your situation. The name of Aro's personal bodyguard - the shield lady - is Renata. **

**I believe that in Aro's case, she was going for politely creepy, but got kooky, harmless wacko instead. I much prefer the Michael Sheen version, in which he is weirdly giggly but also pretty badass. This is not my portrayal, at least not completely, but I do like the idea of a polite, bubbly, excitable yet cold and quietly menacing leader whose demeanour is so generally pleasant, people tend to uderestimate them. That's what I'll try to write in coming chapters.**

 **Seriously, the world-building and characterisation in these books are pretty darn awful, so bringing some logic and rules into this universe (fantasy rules, but rules nonetheless) was overdue and is a lot of fun. I'm not throwing all canon overboard, but I am tweaking it so that it at least becomes internally consistent.**

 **Ah, there's also a mention not only of the Romanian and Egyptian covens (those are canon and really tried to take over the world accoring to the Illustrated Guide), but also of a Russian and a Chinese one. Those are my invention, and yes, they're a jab at SMeyer's obvious belief that Asia doesn't exist. Seriously, in all the books, there is not a single Asian vampire to be found. Boo. There's some pretty awesome vampire lore in several Asian cultures. Check those out if you can.**

 **I hope you enjoy this new exploration of people and places! I know I really love writing these characters. As always, thank you very much for reading and for leaving your opinions in the form of reviews. Please continue to be open and honest about what your thoughts are. I appreciate it.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen**

 **1** **The fact that Irina was being dragged to Volterra instead of being dismembered and burned on the spot was solely Demetri's accomplishment**. He'd risked his own safety even more than he already had by pointing out to Caius that she had chosen to not do anything to actively help the dhampir, that she had even managed to help Leah contact Demetri. The direct result of this had been the acquisition of Jasper and Bella, as well as the death of several Cullens. Demetri's point had been that maybe there was hope of recovery for Irina, who had only been marginally exposed to Renesmee and had been able to at least passively assist those who wished her dead or captured.

Luckily, this had been enough to buy Irina some time…and a free trip to Italy! Woo! Everyone celebrate. She didn't hold out much hope that any of this would last, of course, but at least she'd get to die in Europe. It wasn't Slovakia, and it sure as hell wasn't eleventh-century Kremnica (oh, the memory of Lyubomir walking across the meadow toward her, smiling, sunshine in his light-brown hair), but it was at least the right continent. She regretted the fact that she'd left her sisters behind without a word of goodbye, but that couldn't be helped. Whatever would happen, would happen. At least she'd gotten some kind of revenge for Laurent. That was better than nothing. No need to whine and bemoan her fate now. No, there was no need for anything quite that pathetic. She'd made her bed. Everything that had happened during the past few months had been her own decision, and the consequences were her own fault. So, there was no reason to mope, really, because she had no-one to blame but herself.

She'd wished for revenge and for the downfall of the Cullen coven, and that was exactly what she'd gotten. Funny how even when wishes came true, it was never quite the way one imagined it. There was always a catch, always an unpleasant consequence couldn't have been foreseen. Maybe her wish just hadn't been specific enough. She told herself that she'd be more careful next time.

She didn't really talk much to Chelsea during the trip, even though Chelsea tried a few times to engage her in light-hearted conversation. The whole thing felt like a dream, which reminded Irina of those precious few minutes during which she'd been unconscious, courtesy of Jasper, the psychopathic little bastard. Those had, hands down, been the best few minutes of the past thousand years. Sleep. Actual sleep! The relief was unimaginable, unnameable. No wonder Caius wanted so much to collect Jasper, even though the extent of Jasper's power probably gave him some pause. Irina was pretty sure, however, that with so many exceedingly gifted vampires amongst the Volturi, it was possible to keep Jasper's egocentric and downright nasty shenanigans in check. They had Alec. They had Corin. They had Chelsea. There were others, too, that Irina didn't know about; of course there were. There had to be. No coven had ever been this powerful and intelligently led in all of vampire history. They were still here; all the others were long gone while the Volturi endured. Above anything else, that was to be admired.

The entire trip was unspectacular, as was the drive into Volterra and entering the ancient catacombs below the city that served as the Volturi stronghold. It was an impressive construction, huge and intricate like the world's most confusing labyrinth, impossible to storm, impossible to orient oneself in without extensive knowledge of the place or at least a good map. Chelsea led Irina through endless stone corridors and metal doors and huge stone staircases, down and up and down and left and right and wherever, until Irina had completely lost her way. Usually, she was not this easily disoriented. Maybe a vampire with such a power lived within these walls. Who knew? It wasn't as if they were going to tell her. Other than most of their kin, they were not stupid.

After they walked through yet another door – this time into something resembling an office – they were joined by two guards in snug, dark-grey suits. The room was quadrangular, well-lit, and decorated with a big, mahogany desk, tapestries, and lamps. It was cosy and not at all what Irina had expected.

Behind the desk sat a tall, lean vampire woman who wore a dark-green two-parter and had her lush brown hair pinned up in an artfully lazy bun. At the sight of Chelsea, a warm smile spread across her face. "Hey, there, sweetie! Sorry your trip got cut short," she said, gracefully rising to her feet to greet her friend, who gave her a kiss on each cheek. The woman spoke Italian. She smiled at Irina and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Gianna."

"Irina," she said feebly, shaking the offered hand once.

Gianna sat down again and re-focussed her attention on Chelsea. "He's already waiting for you."

Chelsea uttered a little laugh, put her hands to her hips, and then heaved a theatrical sigh. "Every single time. And we're actually early!"

"Don't kill the messenger," Gianna said, her smile broadening, and motioned to the door leading out of this room. "Good luck in there." The last bit was directed at Irina, who tried and failed to return the woman's sunny expression.

She hadn't expected any of this, but in all fairness, it wasn't as if she'd ever spent much time picturing what the Volturi stronghold would be like. Hell, she never thought she'd be brought here as a prisoner. That was what she was, and there was no use in kidding herself about it.

"Well, then," Chelsea said, energetically stepping onward, the heels of her black pumps clacking loudly on the stone floor. "Irina, lads: let's go say hi to the boss."

Feeling strangely detached from herself, Irina tried hard not to think about that awful day her maker had been destroyed, that awful day she'd watched little Vasilii burn. It had happened so long ago, and yet, those imagines still haunted her as if the wounds were fresh and bleeding: the men and women in the black cloaks destroying evidence, burning bodies. Demetri, serious as death, tearing Aleksandra limb from limb and tossing her remains into the fire. His friend, the tall and bulky one, ripping off Vasilii's head like it was nothing; to him, it wasn't. Irina could still hear the lovely little boy wailing as he'd been torn from his maker's arms. His pale face, his blond hair, they'd been drenched in blood. Yet, he'd still been thirsty, always thirsty. He hadn't understood. He couldn't. He'd only been a baby of no more than three years. Aleksandra had bitten a human child, had watched over him as his little body decayed and fell apart, as it rearranged itself in the most horrible ways, driving him permanently insane, as his little heart beat its last. She'd done this to a little human child, the most awful thing imaginable, putting him through torment that he'd never be able to forget…all of that because vampire children were cute.

How hard it had been to stand there, just _stand_ there on that fateful last day of the boy's short second life, watching those dark-clad figures burning everything to the ground, killing, tearing apart, cleaning up the mess of Aleksandra's unforgivable crime. Irina still felt her sisters' arms around her, still felt the crushing agony of not being able to weep, of not being able to find any sort of emotional relief. It was so long ago, all so long ago, but the memories never faded, and now that she was here, in the lion's den, she couldn't stop those images from playing before her mind's eye, over and over and over again.

Of course, there were no human responses to tell her that she was nervous or apprehensive or anything of the sort, but by now she knew herself well enough to be able to interpret her own emotions. Warily, she followed Chelsea (and was followed by those guards) into a vast, rectangular, throne-room kind of hall that was furnished with one long wooden table and chairs alongside either longer wall (and made her think of 1950s King Arthur movies). At the far end, on an elevated platform or stage or however that was called, stood a smaller table, and behind that were three pretty huge and ornate chairs. The walls were decorated with genuinely mediaeval-looking tapestries that had probably been hanging there for the past six-hundred years at the very least. The air smelled fragrant, and lamps fashioned to look like chandeliers swung from the ceiling, inundating the room in a pleasant, warm, yellowish light.

Irina registered all of this, but the bulk of her attention was focussed on the single person waiting inside: a man who looked to be in his late thirties to early forties, average-sized, lean, and exceedingly pale, wearing a sharp, black, three-piece suit and a red tie. His relatively short yet unruly mop of dark hair contrasted starkly with the pallor of his skin and the ruby-red of his eyes. He had a slim, but not skinny face that had somehow retained the slight roundness of cheek that always accompanied youth. The bright smile, however, was the most captivating aspect of him, what caught the eye and didn't let it go. It was _mesmerising_ , that smile, lighting up his face as if he were his own source of radiance.

This was a strange admission, but Irina couldn't remember ever having met a vampire this objectively ordinary and yet staggeringly entrancing. Was that a power? Was it simply charisma? Did it matter? Probably yes, but her thoughts were too jumbled, and she was too overwhelmed by everything going on for her to be able to piece it all together and come to a rational conclusion. As it was, she just stood there in the middle of the hallway, gobsmacked, staring at that man out of huge eyes, probably looking dazed and stupidly confused.

"Irina Horváthová," he said, his strong, clear, pleasant voice resounding throughout the room as if that room had been built this majestically only to suit that sound. "I have heard so many wonderful things about you, my dear – so many _wonderful_ things." Relatively slowly, probably so as not to startle her, he crossed the distance to where she and Chelsea were standing and held out a hand to Chelsea without taking his eyes – those eyes! – off Irina. "Charmion, darling girl. I hope your journey wasn't too stressful."

"No, it was fine," she said, and briefly touched his hand with her own. "As you can see, I always enjoy getting out, even if it's only for a little while."

"Indeed, you do. I see it," he said, still smiling, and cast her a little look, before locking eyes with Irina again. "But where are my manners? You must forgive me: we don't get many visitors these days."

"It would help if I knew your name," Irina said monotonously, even forgetting to feel stupid. It was as if that guy could look right into her and just adapt the way he affected her according to what worked best – true charm. It was amazing. She still had no clue whether this was a power or not.

"Let me introduce myself, then," he said. "In ancient times, I used to be known under a purely Etruscan name, but for the past thousand years, I've…let's say I've Italianised it."

"Okay," Irina said. "What do I call you?"

"You can call me Aro," he said, the smile widening, crinkling the skin around his eyes. It looked warm and honest and welcoming and friendly. He held out a hand.

"How do you do?" she replied automatically, reaching out her own.

His grasp was firm, but not overly. The smile turned into something like a grin. "I was doing very well, but now, I am absolutely enthralled."

* * *

 **2** **It was already getting dark when Demetri decided to call it a day**. They pulled into the car park of the first interstate motel they found. None of the vampires needed sleep, but poor Leah was battered and bruised and still working the vampire venom out of her system. Her neck wound still hadn't healed, either, and she needed to lie down properly and sleep in an actual bed for a whole night.

"You take the luggage and go check in," he told Bella and Jasper, as he got out of the car and very gently closed the driver-side door. "I'm carrying her."

Jasper looked at him as if he were a second away from guffawing. "That's so sweet. Bella and I are gonna give you two lovebirds some space."

Bella just gawped at him and said nothing.

Demetri gave him a withering look as he stepped around the car to the passenger side. The air was chilly and it had started to drizzle. None of this made him any more tolerant of stupid innuendo. "That's very funny. Just don't think that I'll let you out of my sight for a minute."

"How do you think it's gonna look if the four of us ask for one room?" Jasper said, crossing his arms, raising his eyebrows. "Three awake-and-alert white people, two of them male, and an unconscious Native American woman donning a huge bandage on her neck. That won't raise any red flags at all." He snickered. "Profiling is wrong, but it happens, so let's stay grounded in reality, all right, folks? If Bella and I take one room and the two of you another, it will look far less suspicious. We'll just seem like regular tourists on the road – two couples. Nothing to write home about. Also, maybe you should do something to cover that bandage up."

After two seconds of deliberation, Demetri had to admit that the insufferable little shit was right. What was even worse was the fact that Demetri hadn't even thought that any of this might constitute a problem. He nodded. "Okay. Two rooms, then. However, please be reminded that the deal with Caius only stands if you manage to not murder anyone whilst on the road with me. I'd advise against changing your mind about that deal, too: Caius does not take kindly to being betrayed."

"Oh, I have no intention of going back on our deal. I've been searching for meaning in my life ever since I can remember: when I joined the Confederate Army, when I fought for Maria, when I joined the Cullens," Jasper said, pulling up one corner of his mouth in a crooked little smirk. "This is what I've been looking for all my life, son. I want to do something that _matters_ , and being recruited by the vampire government is the highest honour. I won't disappoint, and neither will the lovely and talented Miss Swan. Isn't that right, darling?" He gave Bella a meaningful look.

"That's right," she said, glancing up at Jasper and then at Demetri. "I always wanted to be special. I guess this is the closest I'll ever get to that."

Demetri couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why, but he felt a little like punching those two in the teeth. "Good," he said, instead. The drizzle started morphing into _bone fide_ rain, and the breeze turned into wind. The cold was ungodly; he was chilled to the bone. "If you get thirsty, call me. I'll show you how to feed without killing or turning your prey. Do not go out on your own. Do not draw any unnecessary attention to yourselves. This is not up for debate. I won't accept rationalisations. There are no exceptions whatsoever."

"We should be fine for a few more days," Jasper said, waving off, and started getting their stuff out of the car's boot. "Come on, Miss Swan; let's head inside before the rain ruins my jacket."

Not paying too much attention to them anymore, Demetri carefully opened the passenger side door. Leah was sleeping soundly and snoring softly, her head tilted back. No, she wasn't going to wake up unless he picked her up and dropped her on the asphalt. Ignoring the bitter cold (and still expecting gooseflesh, even though his skin had lost the ability to form that a millennium ago), he pulled off his scarf, carefully wrapped it around Leah's neck, and scooped her into his arms.

The room they got was nice; it was simple, but clean. He gently placed Leah on the bed, took off her shoes, and pulled the thick duvet over her, before turning the one armchair in the room away from the bed and settling down, facing the window. The thick curtains were closed, but that didn't matter. He had some tracking to do, and for that, he needed to focus on nothing but his own thoughts. Also, it was unimaginably rude (not to mention creepy) to watch someone sleep, but it would look weird if he spent the night loitering in the hallway. He needed a break from the other two vampires, as well, at least for a few hours. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't still hear them in the adjacent room – regrettably. Their voices had really started to tear at his already frayed nerves. For the next few days, at least, there was no distancing himself from them, which was unfortunate, but couldn't be helped. There was a job to be done, and whining about unpleasantness had never solved a single problem in the history of forever.

* * *

 **3** **"This has got to be the strangest day of my entire life,"** Bella said, after Jasper closed the door to their room. She was standing by the window, but watching him place what little luggage they had on the thickly carpeted floor.

He looked at her, wearing an expression she interpreted as incredulous. "Really? This is stranger than finding out vampires exist, than finding out werewolves exist, than marrying a vampire, than giving birth to a freaky hybrid, than turning into an undead abomination that leads an unholy existence as a human-leeching parasite?"

"Yes," she said, enjoying the feeling of not being confused or in doubt at all. This emotional callousness and the tranquillity were a bliss, even if they did come at the cost of many human lives. There was a time and a place to ponder the moral implications of her actions, and Bella had never been the type to do so if it reflected badly on her. "I never had much of a life. When I met Edward, I was dazzled by the sparkle and wanted to be like him: young and beautiful and filthy rich. I projected those desires on him and called it love. Today, that illusion was completely shattered. I just spent hours in the same car as the man who tore off my husband's head and threw it in a fire, and I don't _care_." She tilted her head slightly to the side, taking in the eerie and rather inappropriate look of glee on Jasper's scarred face, not being bothered by his demeanour at all. "I never loved him. I didn't even know him. Now, there's no way I can pretend that I ever did."

"That's what's weirding you out?" he said, making a face, as if the mere notion were the most ridiculous thing ever conceived.

Jerkily, she shook her head. All around them, in the other rooms, were people, and she could hear them move and talk and watching television and showering and eating and walking arguing drinking everything all at once. She could hear Leah snoring. She could hear the rain and the wind and the traffic noises wafting over from the interstate. Far off, she could hear a dog barking, a fly buzzing, leaves rustling lowly. She heard it all at the same time with perfect clarity, and it didn't bother her. This was heaven. Yes, she was a monster, but like this, it felt _good_. Deliberations about morality would only drag her down, such as thoughts regarding right and wrong and life and death and the possibility that her soul had moved on after she stopped being human. Why would she even _want_ to have a soul? If she still had one, she'd go straight to hell for all the horrifying things that she had done, and that was definitely a prospect she absolutely had no desire to contemplate.

"No," she said. "What I find odd is the fact that I feel liberated. I feel free. I can't lie to myself anymore, not after all that's happened ever since I died, and it feels like a huge weight's been lifted off my shoulders. I can't twist reality to suit my own needs any longer, and just letting go of that is like being rid of a decade-long headache." She made herself shrug, which was simpler than putting every single thought and emotion into words. "I can't describe it to you."

"Ever heard that little nugget of wisdom, 'the truth will set you free'?" In a dizzying flash, he was right in front of her, cupping her face in a crushing grip. A lovely, spellbinding little smile was curving up the corners of his mouth, making him look both entertained and smug. "This is exactly like that."

As slowly as she managed, she raised her hands and closed them around his wrists, as far as her fingers could reach. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He snickered. "I'm not being nice."

"Supportive, then. You're the only one who's been giving it to me straight ever since I managed to not be completely helpless in this body anymore. Why?" Like this, being so close to him, it was easy to block everything else out: the room, the people, the world – even herself. It was _amazing_.

"Well, for one, I can sympathise with how it feels to be new-born. None of the others had as much experience with it as me, and none of the others cared to dwell on the awful memories of dying, turning, and waking up as a vampire," he said, still smirking, not breaking eye-contact, not blinking. "I think the main reason, however, is that I can very much sympathise with the fact that you're a lot like me in so many ways."

"You enjoy witnessing other people's pain," she said. "I don't."

"I'd counter that your absolute indifference might be even more morally questionable, but nobody's perfect," he said, gently brushed a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear, and then let go of her, although he stayed right where he was. "It would be boring, anyway – perfection."

"Like you got bored of Alice? I can see one very obvious similarity between you and me: I didn't care about Edward dying. You didn't care about Alice's death."

Again, he raised his eyebrows. "Is there a question somewhere in there?"

"No. I just don't want to become a disposable pawn in one of your schemes." She scrutinised him, trying to gauge his reaction, but all she read was serene amusement.

"That is entirely up to you, darling," he said, cracking a smile, reaching out to touch the side of her face. "Don't lie to me, don't double-cross me, and don't try to mould me into something I'm not. If you can keep to those three simple little rules, we're good."

Looking at him like this, breathing in the sweet cinnamon scent of his skin, she wasn't only reminded of the feeding trip they'd made together, but also of a particularly poignant conversation they'd had recently. It felt like a hundred years had gone by in the interim. "Do you remember when you told me that I was only playing up the guilt to make myself look noble?"

He blinked at her in puzzlement once, then laughed. "That's…not quite how I put it."

"But it was what you were thinking." She waited, but he said nothing. "My point exactly. Do you remember what I told you about why I was afraid to feed on humans again?"

"Sure. You said that you weren't afraid of the guilt, but that you feared the pleasure of the hunt and the kill might be so great, you'd simply stop caring. You were afraid you'd enjoy turning into a complete and unapologetic monster." He playfully tugged on one strand of her hair. "Is that what happened?"

"I think so, yes," she said quietly, reached out, and very lightly traced one of his scars with her fingertips, from his right temple over his eyebrow. "I also think that spending this much time talking to you is only accelerating and exacerbating my detachment from humanity." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "Because I have never encountered anyone that is so far detached from humanity as you are – no offense."

"None taken." There was a spark in his eyes. "Does that scare you?" His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"No," she said, not needing to think about it for a single second. "I know that's bad. I know it, but the more I talk to you, the less I give a damn about holding on to whatever little is left of human Bella. She wasn't a nice person by anyone's standards, but she wasn't a monster, either. Now, I'm cutting off the last ties I had to her, and I don't even care. In fact, to be perfectly candid, I couldn't care any less if I tried."

"Nice is _seriously_ overrated, as trite as that might sound," he returned, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze so hard that it hurt. She didn't flinch, though, and his smirk morphed into a grin. "Also, I've got a very effective solution to this little predicament, sweetheart: if talking to me is what makes you feel uneasy, then we can quit talking so much. Silence is golden, after all."

If she'd still had a living heart, it would probably be thundering by now. This was all so strange. Her thoughts were racing, but her body was weirdly quiet. Still, there was something happening, something…different. Her mouth was dry and her throat burned, even though she wasn't thirsty. She looked up into that strangely fascinating face of his and, for the first time since dying, she felt a smile taking hold of her face without her express permission. It was incredible. It was almost like being human again.

"I think you're right," she said, and squeezed his hand back, as hard as she could, making him flinch. What was that she was feeling? Contentment? Joy? Exhilaration? It must be that one. She recognised it. "I think you're right about everything."

* * *

 **4** **Close to dawn, Charlie Swan woke up from his uneasy sleep**. Luckily, Jacob was already awake, because Barbie needed to hunt and someone needed to watch over Nessie, who still slept like an angel. Even if Barbie hadn't rudely prodded Jacob with her foot, he wouldn't have missed her departure, because he hadn't been able to catch much shut-eye, anyway. There were so many things going through his head. These days, there were always two sides in him, warring: the old and sensible Jacob who hated vampires and wanted nothing more than to turn back time and be home with his family; the new Jacob, whose sole purpose was to keep Renesmee safe and happy.

For example, if he thought about what Leah had done, his mind had two responses: it cheered her on and, at the same time, it cursed her to the deepest pits of hell. _Go, Leah_ , old Jacob shouted. _Fuck you, Leah, you traitorous piece of trash_ , new Jacob whined. She'd aligned herself with a European vampire, had allowed that vampire to infect her with venom ( _ew_ , by the way), just so she could resist Jacob's Alpha command. On one hand, the lengths she'd go to in order to achieve her goals were admirable. On the other hand, how could she have abandoned her own brother like that, and Jacob himself, who was also her family? The worst aspect of this was her abandonment of Nessie, though, and what she really thought of her, what she'd told that leech. All of this he had seen in her mind when they'd both been wolves. He didn't like to admit this even to himself, but it stung, her hatred and her disgust and her pity. It stung like a bitch.

Charlie started moving and groaning, dragging Jacob out of his ridiculous emo fit. He opened his eyes and inhaled sharply, before grimacing and gingerly touching his bandaged forehead with his fingertips. "Damn." He blinked, looked about, found Jacob. His eyes went wide. Then, he blew out a heavy breath and covered his face with his hands. "Aw, _crap_. Don't tell me all that stupid bullshit was real."

"Afraid it was, Chief," Jacob said, ready to jump up and protect the soundly sleeping Nessie at the first sign of trouble. "Sorry about your head."

"That wasn't you; it was that weird alien thing that kind of looked like my daughter," Charlie muttered, dropped his hands, and laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position. When Jacob tried to lend a helping hand, Charlie waved off. He was pale and had dark rings under his eyes, but looked…okay, considering. Sort of. "Now I know why your dad was so squeamish when Renée and I went to talk to him. The Cullens are frigging vampires and you're a werewolf. I wouldn't exactly be volunteering that kind of information, either."

Charlie's deadpan reaction to discovering a whole new world within a world was so awesome, Jacob could hardly keep from slow-clapping, Charles Foster Kane-style (and no, thinking about his sister Rachael's favourite movie didn't help ease his conscience at all. What a ridiculous notion!). "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"Apparently not sorry enough to not haul me into the woods with you, the Hale girl, and this…doll thing." Charlie grimaced and pointed at Nessie with a quick move of his chin. "I guess that's the parasite that killed my daughter. Billy was right on the money, it turns out. What the _hell_ is that thing? Looks like someone threw Bella and the Cullen kid into a blender, then baked the results and drowned it in a bathtub's worth of sugar icing."

Jacob ignored the stab of anger piercing his gut at the unflattering description as best as he could. After all, poor Charlie had been through a lot, and being snarky was his way of coping. " _Renesmee_ ," he said through clenched teeth. What a sweet name for such a sweet girl. There was nothing wrong with her – nothing at all. She was absolutely flawless. "Renesmee," he repeated quietly, awed. The sound of her name alone was enough to mollify him.

"Bless you."

" _No_ , that's her name!" Jacob snapped, indignant, trying hard to not be seriously offended by Charlie's incredulous look. "She's your granddaughter, and she's _the most precious person in the entire goddamn universe!_ "

Charlie's frown deepened. He edged away a little. "O…kay. Uh…listen, kid, uh…you got some water on you?"

The anger wheezed out of Jacob like air out of a punctured balloon. He exhaled sharply and ran his fingers through his dark, short hair. "Man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. You have no idea what's going on, and none of this is your fault." He shook his head. "Sorry about the kidnapping, too. We kind of need an insurance policy against the assholes who want us dead."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. All colour drained out of his face. He snorted derisively, rubbed at his eyes, cleared his throat. When he faced Jacob again, his eyes were bloodshot, but he was calm and composed. "Glad to be of use. Guess my friends weren't worth saving, but why complain about the little things."

"Here's the water," Jacob said tonelessly, as he reached inside the leather backpack and pulled out a plastic bottle.

"Thanks."

A few minutes went by in awkward, heavy silence. Finally, Jacob couldn't take it anymore. He said, "Listen, Chief, you need to understand that I only-"

"Jacob?"

Both Jacob and Charlie froze and immediately turned to the owner of the beautiful, timid little voice. Jacob's heart flooded with warmth. It was all he could do not to sweep her into a hug and never letting her go again. Who needed sunshine? _Nessie_ was awake.

Smiling broadly, he said, "Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?"

Nessie's big brown eyes (Bella's eyes, always Bella's eyes) found Charlie's. "Are you my grandfather?"

Charlie went even paler. His own eyes were huge. "I, uh…" He coughed into his free hand. "I…yeah. I suppose I am."

The most radiant, beautiful, captivating smile lit up Nessie's perfect features. She reached out, and said, "Take my hand, grandfather. Take my hand and you will _see_."

* * *

 **5** **When Leah woke up from the deepest, blackest sleep of all time, she at first had no idea where she was or how much time had gone by.** The first one wasn't even a cliché; she'd never seen this tacky motel room (because obviously, that's what it was) in her entire life. She was lying on a huge bed, fully clothed, under heavy covers, and she had slept like a baby. Hell, this hadn't been sleep, it had been unconsciousness. The wonderful feeling of being rested, finally _rested_ , outweighed the stinging in her neck, the heaviness of her limbs, her growling stomach, and the question of how she'd got in that bed in the first place.

Yeah, well, it wasn't that hard to answer that one. Her vampiric partner in crime had pulled a plush armchair to the big window, had turned it away from the bed, and was sitting there like a statue, facing the drawn curtains. She propped herself up on her elbows and opened her mouth to say something, but he was quicker.

"They're at the Mexican border."

She yawned, rubbed at her yes, yawned again, and said, "Mexico. Lovely. I don't even have a passport."

"I don't think they'll even check," he said, got up from the chair, and raced to the foot of the bed in a motion so quick, it was hardly even there. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," she said, trying hard to resist the urge to scratch her neck. "Thanks, by the way…for this. None of you need to rest, but I did. I do." She then snickered and rolled her eyes at her own silliness. "Thank you for not staring at me while I was snoring and drooling all over the pillow, either."

The corners of his mouth curved up in a little smile. "You're very welcome, though I feel I must point out that what I did was nothing but common courtesy."

"What is it with you trying so hard to make me like you? That's not how it's supposed to go," she said, playful, threw the covers off, and swung her legs out of bed. "And you left my socks on, too. Nice one; I tend to get cold feet."

He arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No, but I couldn't think of anything wittier to say," she said, and yawned again. "Jeez. Hey, did you see a vending machine or something outside? I'm kind of hungry. Also, I hate to ask you this, I really do, but where the fuck are Mickey and Mallory Knox?"

It took a second for the penny to drop, but when it did, he laughed. It was a strangely pretty sound. "Not killing anyone. I made sure they got into their heads that it wouldn't really go that well for them if they did." He jabbed a thumb behind himself. "They're in the next room."

"Yay," she said, deadpan, stood up, and stretched. "Well, at least you got a break from them for a whole night."

His expression grew pained. "Not really. The wall wouldn't be thick for a human, let alone a vampire."

"Oh." Wondering what exactly that implied and deciding she had no intention of finding out if it implied anything, she pressed her knuckles to her lips and cleared her throat. "So, uh…I'm gonna go look for a vending machine."

Waving off, he said, "No, no. I'll go get you something more decent to eat than a bag of crisps. You just stay here and rest. It's going to be a long day." He was halfway out the door when he added, "And before you complain and tell me that you don't need a nurse, yes, I am going to dress your wound before we leave." Then, he was gone.

Leah stared at the door for a few seconds, snickered, shook her head, and went to take a shower.

* * *

 **6** **About half an hour later, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed** , eating a sandwich, whilst he was inspecting her neck-wound.

"It's almost closed. I'm going to disinfect and bandage it again."

"Thank you, Florence Nightingale," she said, mouth half-full. "You actually are a good nurse, by the way. You know how to cook, how to clean wounds, how to hold the hand of a werewolf who's got vampire venom in her blood, how to put the clothes back on a person who just got mauled by her own brother, how to carry a girl around like luggage, how to tuck said girl in and manage to not be creepy about it."

"I managed to not be creepy? Incredible. And they say chivalry is dead." He worked swiftly, and an uncomfortable couple of minutes later, he was done and back on the armchair, looking at her. It was hard to put a finger on what it was exactly, but he looked a little troubled.

" _What_?" She shrugged, irritated. "What _is_ it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just wondering why Jacob and Rosalie are taking the dhampir and Chief Swan to Mexico. What's in Mexico?"

"Maybe it's just a stop on their way south?"

Again, he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I have the distinct feeling that that's where they're going to gather up whatever army they _can_ gather up on short notice. Think about it for a moment: it's densely populated, it's a country that faces serious socio-economic troubles, it's teeming with people from all over the world – making it a haven for rogue vampires – and it has the dubious honour of having been the place where the worst vampire wars in history occurred. They can't hope to shake me, so that can't be it, and it's not in the nature of dhampirs to run forever, be they the powerful variant or not-so-powerful ones. They want to be loved by all. They need to be stationary in order to gather acolytes. They're definitely planning to make a stand."

"So…you already got your answer."

"But they don't know anyone there. They don't know anyone anywhere except for the Denali clan in, well, Denali. That's in the other direction. Why didn't they take off north? It would have been closer, and they would already have two more allies. Like this, they don't have anyone, and they'll be in a place that's unfamiliar to them. I don't see the advantage."

Leah swallowed down the last of her sandwich, wiped her lips with the napkin that'd come with it, and said, "I'm pretty sure they have a plan, and whatever it is, it's not good for us."

"No." He looked at her gravely. "No, it won't be."

There was no telling whether this was what was bothering him, and so she decided to ask, "Are you this worried because Re-name-me got that scarily powerful in such a short period of time? Because _damn_ , that call of Cthulhu she screamed out must've been something else, according to Sam."

The reference made him smile a little, but it looked tired. "It usually takes until they've reached physical maturity for whatever powers they may have to get really strong, and mostly, they're not _that_ powerful – not even close. Some of them are, but we've always managed to catch them before they could wreak too much havoc. We had some close calls, though, where we needed to bring in the cavalry. The big guns. Our trump card." He looked down at his pale hands, which were neatly folded on his lap. "I lost a few good friends to one of those creatures because we were too late. We didn't recognise the danger in time. They got infected. There is no cure for that – not that we know of, at least. We tried helping them, but nothing worked. It was awful."

Her shoulders slumped. She felt heavy. It was a typical Leah-ism, as her mom called it, wasn't it? She'd be abrasive and rude and explode at any little thing, but forget to realise that there were other people around who had feelings, too. Who had a life. Who had history. Not only had he already lost people, but now there was Irina, as well, who probably was infected for life. "I'm sorry." It didn't even feel weird, being sympathetic toward a vampire.

"Thank you." Again, he gave her that tired little smile, making her wonder what it must really be like, living for a thousand years without sleeping even once. It wasn't a very pleasant thought, to say the least.

She cleared her throat. "So, uh…what's the cavalry like? The big guns, your trump card for eliminating brain-eating death-babies before they create an unstoppable army of fanatical zombies?"

"Well," he said, straightening his posture, "that would be our head of state, Aro."

Frowning, she said, "Isn't he the dude who can read minds by touch?" Who had told her that again? Jacob? She couldn't recall. Not that it made an ounce of difference.

The look he gave her was hard to interpret, but something about her words must have struck him funny. "Yes," he said, after a couple of seconds. "He can see every thought you've ever had by touching your skin for a split second. That's not all, though. You see, vampires develop their abilities – if they have them – over time. Aro is what I would call a people person."

Her frown steepened. "Like a televangelist?"

He snorted laughter that sounded so spontaneous, so…so… _alive_ , it was hard to keep seeing him as an undead monster who lived on other people's blood. "In a sense. The ones who have a gift already had a similar talent as humans. From what I know, he was someone intensely charismatic who had an uncanny ability to see right through people and then just adjusted his conduct accordingly, so he could get them to do what he wanted."

"Oh, _that_ kind of guy," she said flatly. "I know the type. That's what we in the trade call a con-artist."

"Probably, but you wouldn't be able to build the largest vampire coven in history and keep it running for three thousand years, turning it into the ultimate vampire authority, without a little manipulative charm," he said, still smiling. "The mind-reading is a by-product of that, really. Someone who can charm people is always able to read them, somehow, first, and act appropriately. That's what he did as a human, and that's what he does now, only in a much more powerful manner. It only got stronger over time, his power, as he honed it."

"So, basically, he just dazzles people into compliance after cold-reading them. Sounds like a swell guy."

That brought a clearly disapproving little frown to his face. "We need leadership, Leah, and we need leadership that is effective. He can deal with basically anyone, and he needs to. You've met a good number of vampires: we're stupid, arrogant, homicidal wankers who need to be kept in check for our own good – not to mention the good of everybody else."

She just blinked at him for a few seconds. It was so weird to hear him swear. "Okay, then. Let me see if I got this right: if all else fails, you call in the emperor, who can then charm and manipulate the spawn into jumping into a volcano?"

Snickering, he said, "It's a little more complicated than that, but basically, yes. There's no guarantee that this would work on all dhampirs, especially one as powerful as Renesmee, but as a last resort, if all else fails, it's what we would try."

"Why the hell doesn't this dude then show up at all death-baby sightings in the first place?"

He looked at her as if she'd asked a particularly silly question, and said, "Because no government would send their president to the front lines of the battlefield and leave a power vacuum at the capital city unless absolutely necessary. We need him to be our emperor, as you so aptly put it. There's enough chaos around as it is. Vampires have already tried to enslave humans and set themselves up as gods: Romanians, Egyptians, Chinese, Russians. The death-toll was unimaginably high. It's only because of Aro that these maniacs were stopped and brought to justice, and that's just me mentioning the over-the-top evil and megalomaniacal ones.

"There are countless others who kill and destroy and make a spectacle of themselves unwittingly, without any higher ambitions. Then, there are vampires like the Cullens, who think they're morally superior for not eating humans and who'll flaunt that supposed superiority in everyone's faces, drawing too much attention to the fact that they are _clearly_ not human. Arrogance and the belief in one's own superiority and invincibility are often more than enough ingredients for a recipe of pure disaster. Imagine if we didn't have this kind of competent, powerful, and insightful person leading the only authority a vampire will recognise. Let's just say that the results would be rather cataclysmic."

Yep, that made sense. "When you put it like that…" She trailed off and sighed. "Okay, then, Captain Exposition. Thank you for explaining vampire politics to me. I really appreciate it. I'm gonna go get ready, now, and then we can hit the road. I don't think I'll be-"

There was a crisp knock on the door. They both snapped to attention. After breathing in once, Demetri said, "It's them," and flash-ran to the door to let Jasper and Bella in.

"We'd like to thank you for the helpful exposition, as well," Jasper said, cracking a merry and very smug smirk that made Leah want to kick him in the face. It was bad enough that everywhere he went, he stank up the place like a thousand cinnamon incense sticks burning at once. "I'd like to add my own two cents to story-time, now."

Leah heaved a heavy, theatrical, tired sigh. "The fuck are you on about, Creepula?" She was so not in the mood for his bullshit.

"You have no right to keep calling him that," Bella said snootily, for the first time actually emoting slightly through speech ever since murdering all those innocent campers. "You're no less repulsive to us than we are to you."

Leah smiled sweetly and gave her the finger. "Bite me."

"I thought that was his job," Jasper said, giving Demetri a pointed look. The latter only rolled his eyes.

After quietly seething and gnashing her teeth together for a few seconds, whilst everyone else just wisely kept silent, Leah said, "Just spill it, asshole, and stop it with the melodrama. Nobody wants to hear it; nobody _cares_."

Jasper's smirk became a grin. How he loved doing that, the asshole. _Christ_ on a cracker. "You're gonna love this," he said, and looked from Demetri to Leah and back again. "I know what Renesfail and friends are doing in Mexico."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Just as a little heads-up, it's going to get a teensy bit horror-tinged in here. It may be a little off-putting; it may also be lame. You decide. There's also a Kansas reference lurking about that I couldn't resist throwing in. Anyway, thank you all for bearing with me so far! I hope you'll enjoy the fact that our heroes are getting closer and closer to their impending doom, be that positive or not. I also hope I haven't included any major (or minor) research fail. **

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

 **1** **"Did you know that Tijuana is the birthplace of the Caesar Salad?"** Charlie said, sounding like the least enthusiastic tour guide in the history of humanity. They were driving on the Agua Caliente Boulevard, toward Las Torres, a.k.a. the Plaza Aguacaliente & Grand Hotel Tijuana. The car was an 1983 red Audi Quattro that Barbie had acquired by paying for it with cash. This, in turn, resulted from her pawning off some tacky but expensive jewellery before they crossed the border. Getting across the border itself had been a little bit tense, but after some debate, they'd decided to brazenly drive up to border control, despite having no passports. Everyone except for Nessie had thought that this was a terrible idea. Everyone except for Nessie had been thoroughly mistaken. No-one even looked at their documents. Huh. It probably would've helped if they'd actually researched border-crossing from San Diego into Mexico.

Now, Charlie was driving toward the hotel, Jacob by his side, whilst Barbie and Nessie were on the backseat. Poor Charlie. He hated this bull, as he called it. He truly hated it. He hated being forced to stick around by decree of supernatural bullies (his term, not Jacob's), he'd hated changing into civilian clothes Barbie had bought for him, he'd hated lying to the police patrol that had stopped them on the road, and he _hated_ chauffeuring around people he thought of as monsters and murderers. The thing was, he didn't have a choice – none of them did. The only difference was that, just like Bella, Charlie seemed to be completely and utterly immune to Nessie's graceful charms. Nessie herself hadn't been too pleased, but had accepted that of course her grandpa loved and worshipped her, even if something was clearly wrong with him.

"Is that so?" Barbie replied, not even trying to mask her boredom and contempt. God, all those insults Jacob liked to fling at her aside, as a person, she was just plain _awful_. What an ally to be stuck with! Eugh.

"Yeah. Guy named Caesar Cardini, immigrant from Italy, came to Tijuana to escape Prohibition in the US. After Fourth of Juli, 1924, his kitchen was depleted, and he basically threw in all he had together. Voilà! Caesar Salad."

"How interesting. Please tell me more about the irrelevant inception of an insipid dish that I can't ever eat."

"Shut your trap, Barbs. Nobody cares what you think," Jacob said, yawning, and pointed at the two huge, silvery skyscrapers ahead. "We're here."

"I've always wanted to vacation in Mexico for free," Charlie said flatly, slowing the car down. "Oh, well. Let's get this over with. Maybe I'll be lucky and get eaten."

"That won't happen, Grampa," Nessie said sweetly, innocently, oblivious of his mean-spirited sarcasm. No, he didn't want to be here, but this was his _granddaughter_. It couldn't hurt to be a little more friendly, even if his stupid, blockheaded mind made it impossible for him to _see_. "I won't let them. They'll be our friends; you'll see. They'll all be our friends."

"Comforting," Charlie said, and harrumphed.

"How many of them are there? Creepula ever tell you?" Jacob glanced over his shoulder at Barbie, to see her pull a grimace of disgust.

"The last time he was here, about five years ago, he said there were at least ten. But that _was_ five years ago," she said coldly. "Conjecturing will get us nowhere. In any case, every extra help is better than what we have now."

There was a knot in Jacob's throat. He shot a glance at Charlie, but then looked out the window at the traffic and merry crowds hurrying to and fro. This was a big city, a lively city, a cultural metropolis that was ever-growing. Now Jacob and his little party had arrived to bring death and destruction to the unsuspecting locals and tourists. Awesome. "Do you think we have time to make more? Vampires, I mean." He ignored Charlie's appalled stare.

"No," Barbie said. "I don't even know if I'm physically capable of turning someone, and even if, the transformation takes at least two days, and after that, they're deaf and blind for weeks if not months. Demetri might be put off for a day at best, probably only a few hours. They'll be here later today."

"That doesn't mean they'll attack blindly. Didn't go so well for either side last time."

Barbie huffed. "Of course they're not gonna attack blindly, _Jacob_. It doesn't matter, anyway. If we get the one we want, and we have the upper hand, then we can beat them, whoever they're sending for us. My point is, we can't just turn people on a dime without making preparations first, and they wouldn't be able to do anything useful, anyway, even if it took our pursuers a whole month to get here."

"Don't kill the bad men, Aunt Rose," Nessie said, her little voice beseeching. It made Jacob's breath hitch in his throat. The poor little thing. She was so good. She was so much better than those assholes trying to get their filthy hands on her. Why didn't Leah understand? There was nothing about Nessie that was hard to love. Everyone should love her. She deserved it. She _needed_ it. One day, they would all see. They would all _see_.

"Why not, angel?" Barbie said tenderly. Through the rear-view mirror, Jacob saw her caress Nessie's lush brown curls. He felt ill. What right did she have to lay her corpse-hands on the most precious individual that could ever exist?

"Because now I know that I can change them. I can turn them into good men. They'll be my friends, too." Nessie was smiling, and it shone more brightly than the sun. "Everyone will be my friend, and soon. You'll see. You all will _see_."

* * *

 **2** **"Once upon a time in Mexico," Leah said, and chuckled wryly**. They were on the road again, and it wouldn't take too long until they reached the border. She voiced concerns about the possibility that authorities might perhaps be on the lookout for them, but Creepula had smugly informed her that this would _so_ not be a problem due to his overwhelming awesomeness. Yeah, _fine_ , he hadn't put it like that exactly, but he might as well have, the self-satisfied little jerk.

"You know," she said, glancing at him through the rear-view mirror, "I was there when you told us your cute little transformation story, and how that evil Mexican lady duped you, etc. etc. Was that all bull? Because you seem way, _way_ too well-informed on current events to actually be bitter about what happened back then."

He only shrugged casually. "What can I say? I lived with that woman for about eighty years. That leaves an impression. I like to stay in touch."

"I think what he really means to say," Demetri added, eyes strictly on the road, since there was a lot of traffic and the weather was foul, "is that the real reason he vacated himself from the hotspot of those southern wars was this: he found out that we were about to put a stop to them."

"That, too," Jasper said, completely unfazed, "and a heartfelt thank-you to my buddy Peter and his insipid girlfriend Charlotte for spotting you people – a complete coincidence, by the way – and reporting back to me." He snickered. "To think that I almost killed that raisin-headed moron Peter had crushed on. If I had, I'd probably be dead now."

"Yay for you," Leah said flatly, and looked out the window. She traced the pattern of the raindrops on the glass with her fingertips. "They had a head-start anyway and will be able to set up shop before we reach them – Jacob and the others. We can't simply burst onto the scene and attack them. What do we do?"

Demetri took his sweet time to reply, "Evaluate the situation. I'll know exactly where they are the moment we get within twenty miles of them. We drive into town, get the lay of the land, and go from there. I would try reasoning with them, first, naturally, but it won't do any good. There are some situations you simply can't talk your way out of."

"Can I make a suggestion?" That was Bella. She didn't sound as dead as she had yesterday. Must've been a really good heart-to-heart she'd had with Creepula. Either that or…nope. Leah was not going to think about that. Ever. So not happening. "Let me call Jacob. If there's still any of his old self alive, he'll listen to me more than any of you."

"Leah is his cousin and pack-member," Demetri countered, doubtful and, if Leah wasn't terribly mistaken, very much annoyed.

Bella said, "True, but he is imprinted on Renesmee, and Renesmee is half me. He used to love me, and that had nothing to do with anything supernatural. Those were real emotions. Maybe that's the only way we can get through to him at all. We won't convince him to surrender, but at least we can lull him into a false sense of security. I know what I have to tell him in order to make him believe we wish for a peaceful resolution."

Wow, that was cold. It was a good and helpful suggestion, yes, and sentimentality would get them nowhere, but the way she said all this was so detached, so unaffected, so horribly uncaring. Again, maybe Leah was only projecting and reading way too much into this because she despised Bella, but she didn't think so. Well, at least Bella was now offering some useful advice, even if her functioning brain was a by-product of her violently killing several innocent people – egged on and aided by Creepula, of course.

Jared. Embry. The wolf kids. The dead police officers. Charlie, who was as good as dead. All the unknown people who would die before all this was over. All the-

Leah gnashed her teeth together and focussed on her breathing. Now was not the time for this. She needed to keep her marbles. She really needed to keep her eye fixed on the bigger picture. Re-name-me first, revenge later. "If we're gonna try to manipulate Jacob in any shape or form, Bell-Bell here should be the one to do it; I agree."

"All right," Demetri said, after mulling this over for a moment. "Don't do anything without my approval, though. I've hunted dhampirs and rogue vampires before; you have not. The smallest mistake might have catastrophic results and a death-toll in the thousands."

"You're the boss," Jasper said merrily. "Still, I'd advise you to listen to my expertise regarding Tijuana. I've been there. I was a major player in those wars. I know who's in charge of the sandbox…well, at least until now." He snickered again. "She'll be furious at being usurped by a mongrel child."

"What makes you think that she hasn't been added to the collective?" Bella said. There was a slightly snide undertone to her otherwise monotonous voice. Hm. Fancy that.

"It's just a hunch," Jasper said, casual and carefree as always. "I know that woman. If anyone has a knack for survival, it's her."

"Her power might have helped a little," Demetri added.

"Yes, that, too," Jasper said. Through the mirror, Leah could see him smirking.

She balled her hands into fists, actually relishing the feeling of her fingernails biting into her palms. "We'll just have to wait and see," she said in clipped tones, and forced herself to stare out the window again. There really wasn't much else to do, anyway, and fur-sploding in a car on the road would probably not be a very constructive contribution to the conversation.

* * *

 **3** **There was no prison cell.** There were no restrictions. Irina was free to move around the complex as she pleased, and there was a very good reason for this: she couldn't find the exit, and whenever she turned a corner that she wasn't supposed to turn, she was compelled to head in the other direction. No, she had absolutely no clue who the vampire responsible for this was, but that was the only viable explanation: someone with the power of extreme misdirection resided within these walls. It was the only security they needed, in the end. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't go where you weren't supposed to go, and no matter how far you walked, you always ended up where they wanted you to be.

Therefore, after a few hours of wandering around and winding up in the exact same spot every single time, she just stayed in the room she'd been assigned. It was nice, sporting a very comfortable couch and two armchairs, a fully-stocked bookcase, and a gramophone. This whole place was like a little, self-contained, parallel universe where time stood still and out of which there could be no escape. She decided to make the best of it and just wait and see what those people planned to do with her. The introduction to Aro had been brief, but very memorable. She still wasn't sure whether his mesmerising personality was a power or not, but she knew about his thought-and-memory-reading ability. Maybe those two were connected. Maybe she was just overthinking things. It made no difference. She was here; she wasn't going anywhere unless they let her.

About an hour or so after she'd settled down on the sofa (unnecessary, but decorative, and sitting down was a habit, after all) with a copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , there was a knock on her door. She put the book down and shot to her feet, saying, "Come in," almost adding 'I'm decent'.

It was Aro. He beamed at her as he stepped inside. His eyes wandered to the hardcover lying on the couch. "Symbolism in your choice of literature?"

She shrugged and crossed her arms. "It's just a book I really enjoy by an author I love." It still was inexplicably hard to look away from him, even though she now knew what to expect. "Thank you, by the way, for giving me a nice room with such a great selection of books."

He laughed softly. "Reading is an ever-green, especially among people who live forever. I was just joking just now, my dear. Dumas has his place in all the guest chambers for a reason. His novels are simply divine."

"Am I a guest?" she said, when what she really wanted to ask was whether she was included in his list of people who got to live forever – as far as 'forever' went, anyway. Everything ended at some point, even time.

The slightest frown wrinkled his forehead. "Of course. You're free to go anywhere you like within the stronghold."

That answered her question even better than the truth would have. She nodded, started twirling a strand of her hair around her fingers, and looked down at her booted feet. "Caius wanted to kill me, but Demetri convinced him to send me here, instead. I'm pretty sure you had a hand in that decision."

"Ah, yes. My brother and his unfortunate tendency to make rash decisions," he said, and sighed with unmistakeable exasperation. "When I talked to our mutual friend, Demetri, and he told me how well you managed to resist the mind-control of a dhampir that powerful, I was more than intrigued. Others in your position have not been so fortunate in the past, and neither have those who were exposed to the dhampir in question. I must say, your resistance, your mere _capacity_ for resistance" – He uttered an incredulous little laugh and, as she could see from the corner of her eye, shook his head – "is truly fascinating. I've seen your mind, darling girl, and I am _so_ intrigued by the fact that your hatred of the Cullens and your love for those you have lost are enough to almost override the mind-control."

"Almost," she said, and found herself facing him again. Among vampires, he objectively looked regular, ordinary. It wasn't all about the looks, though – not by far. Whoever thought that pure looks decided on the appeal of a person was shallower than a petri dish.

"Almost. You're still faring better than anyone I've ever encountered. Now, that might be a flaw in the dhampir's power and less your own accomplishment; I'm aware of that. That's the reason you've been brought here, Irina. We – _I_ want to find out what exactly makes you" – Again, his smile broadened, reaching his eyes, lighting up his whole face – "tick."

Despite herself, she took a little step back, so that her calves bumped against the couch. "What exactly does that mean?"

"What does that one narrative rule say? Show, don't tell," he said, and held out his arm. "Please join me, and I'll gladly fill you in on the details."

She hadn't actually slept for a very long time, but this whole situation had a weird, dreamlike quality to it that she could've done without. "Okay," she said, made herself approach him, and placed her hand on the crook of his arm. "Okay."

"Okay," he echoed in a way that was either sunny or mocking; she couldn't quite tell. "Let's go find out what you're really made of."

* * *

 **4** **They walked into the lobby brazenly, Nessie leading the charge, Barbie holding her hand**. Nessie had told them to trust her, and they had no choice but to do so. What else were they going to do, anyway? There was no Plan B. The guy at the reception they approached was very much human, but there was something strange about his eyes: his pupils were either weirdly huge, or his irises were really pitch black. It looked so damn weird, and yet, no-one seemed to be noticing anything off. Okay, the dude wasn't exactly an albino, but no-one had eyes that black – no-one.

Thing was, most people just went about their business and simply overlooked small weird shit that might upset the apple cart. That was an instinctual survival tactic, as far as Jacob was concerned. Ignorance is bliss and all that. In this case, all they saw was a friendly hotel employee who had unusually dark eyes. They didn't know that the guy was being mind-controlled by a very powerful vampire, as were all who worked here. Jacob didn't have the luxury of not knowing. He didn't have the luxury of walking away, either. Bummer for him. Boo-hoo. He knew that feeling sorry for himself didn't change a goddamn thing, but knowing what was waiting for him still made him wish he could just go home, crawl into bed, and sleep until the world stopped turning. Yeah, it was self-pity. No, he wasn't even going to try to switch it off. It was about the only original character trait he still had left, and good or bad, he would do his best to hang on to that.

"Good day, ma'am," Reception Dude greeted cheerily in flawless English, as Barbie approached the desk and picked Nessie up into her ridiculous marble arms. Something about her must scream 'American' to him, which Jacob could hardly blame him for. "How can I help you?"

Jacob was standing right behind Barbie (trying not to breathe in the overwhelming cotton-candy smell of her stupid hair) and couldn't see her face, but was pretty sure she was flashing what she thought was her most radiant smile. It probably wouldn't work on this mind-morphed sucker (and it _had_ to be his irises that were this creepily black; if it were his pupils, he'd be fucking blind), but oh well. Couldn't blame an undead, racist, classist snob for trying.

"Yes," Barbie crooned. "We want the presidential suite."

Reception Dude blinked at her in confusion. His smile wavered. "I'm sorry, but the presidential suite is taken. If you don't have a reservation, we still have a number of beautiful suites that-"

" _No_. It'll be the presidential one, thank you."

The poor guy looked even more confused. He opened his mouth to protest, no doubt, but Nessie was quicker.

" _You want the best room for me because you love me_ ," she said, and it…

…it wasn't exactly like the weird scream that had saved their bacon back at the Cullen house, but it wasn't better – not really. To be honest, it was a whole lot worse. Her voice wasn't just the soft, high, trilling child's music anymore that Jacob was used to (and loved). It had a weird, deep, distorted, metallic undertone swinging alongside it, almost hidden, hard to pinpoint, but real enough to make his hackles stand on end and his eyes water. He bit his tongue so hard, he tasted blood. Next to him, Charlie flinched heavily, leaned his head into his hands, and groaned. Even Barbie winced a little. Reception Dude's unnaturally black eyes went even wider; a tear ran from one of them, down his cheek. His tan face blanched. His mouth dropped open. His whole body twitched jerkily. Drool pooled in the corner of his mouth and started dripping down his chin. The strangest, ugliest, most inhuman whimper strangled its way out his throat as he stared blindly at nothing. Wow, that was…was anybody else seeing this? If they did, then their cover would be blown, they'd be…

Jacob stopped himself mid-thought. There was silence. The entire lobby was _silent_. He looked around. Nobody was moving. Nobody was saying anything. They all – employees as well as guests – were just standing there, eyes wide, mouths open, tears running down their cheeks and drool down their chins, twitching, sucking in short, shaky breaths. Some were…oh mother of God, some of them were actually peeing themselves, like sick puppies. A woman just walking through the doors into the lobby halted mid-stride and vomited dark-red goop all over her beige coat, before stumbling inside, dazed and visibly disoriented.

What the fuck.

Jacob's entire skin broke out in gooseflesh. An ice-cold chill crept down his spine. His mouth went dry. His intestines were in knots. Had it just gotten ten degrees colder in there? Holy hell. What was he supposed to do? Could he do anything? This was…there were no words, no rational explanation, no guidelines, no coherent thoughts, no-

As if on cue, everybody present turned around to stare at Nessie. They snapped to attention. Their eyes went first blank and then completely white – pupils and irises included.

"Presidential suite," Receptionist Dude said blankly, and held out a key card. "All yours. _Everything_ _is all yours_."

"All yours," the rest of the people present murmured in unison.

In Barbie's arms, Nessie twisted in order to be able to look at Jacob and give him a beautiful, triumphant smile. "I told you to trust me," she said, and giggled. "Not they're all my friends."

* * *

 **5** **"They're here," Demetri told Leah and the others,** and pointed at a specific spot on the map he'd spread out on their car's hood. He was aware of the fact that there were more modern ways of showcasing this, but he liked maps, and he was determined to use them until they went out of print. Hopefully, that day would never come.

"Why do you even _need_ a map?" Bella said.

They had passed the border easily – there'd been surprisingly little traffic today – and were now by the side of the road on their way into Tijuana.

"Because I can tell you where someone is after I track them, but I need to know the specifics of the place, too," Demetri said, not looking at her but frowning at the map in question.

Jasper whistled softly. "Figures," he said. Naturally, everyone looked at him – Bella impassively, the other two with impatience. "It's the Grand Hotel. Coolest place to be for three reasons: one, it's a good hotel; two, it's smack in the middle of the city; three, it's vampire-controlled."

Well, that explained a lot. Demetri raised his thin eyebrows at him. "Do _they_ know that?"

"They do because Rosalie knows." Jasper shrugged. "I would apologise for spilling sensitive information, but I didn't know Bella was gonna give birth to a mind-warping Lovecraftian abomination that might use the place as its HQ – not when I shared this little titbit with the in-laws."

That was understandable. Demetri had to give him that much. "I wasn't pointing fingers. I just wonder if your friend is now being controlled by the dhampir instead of controlling an entire hotel's worth of people."

"Well, we'll just have to go there and find out, won't we?"

Leah gave Jasper a withering look. "Are you unable to take anything seriously? We're talking about dozens of lives being at stake, here. This isn't a joke."

"And my compassion will make a difference to their plight how, exactly?" Jasper shot back, very much unimpressed. He tilted his head to the side and returned Leah's angry glare with utter dispassion. "Feeling sorry for someone never changed anything, so I won't bother. I'd rather think of a useful solution. You want to cry for those poor widdle humans being either killed or mind-warped? Go ahead. Cry for them. I'm sure that if you cry hard enough, at some point the clouds will break and a heavenly light will shine down upon your righteous countenance."

Leah's expression went from angry to disbelieving to disgusted in a matter of seconds. She snorted and shook her head. Red blotches appeared high up on her prominent cheekbones. "You unimaginable bastard."

"Please, let's not do this now," Demetri said, briefly placing a hand on Leah's shoulder, willing her to keep her cool. They could not afford a fallout now. He turned to Jasper. "And you, keep your opinions to yourself, if you know that they'll only provoke an argument."

"I'm just tired of getting judged all the time based on nothing but my species," Jasper returned nonchalantly, shrugging, crossing his arms. This earned him a fervent nod of approval from Bella.

"You – _you_ have the nerve to accuse _me_ of being racist?" Leah snapped, jabbing a finger in Jasper's direction. Her face was now completely flushed, her eyes narrowed. She was trembling slightly. "You people do nothing but insult us, call us dogs and mongrels, treat us like dirt, like cannon fodder, and you have _the fucking nerve_ -" She interrupted herself, bit her lower lip, shook her head, and waved off. "Fuck this bullshit. Let's get this crappy gig over with, because I am _so_ close to being done!" She really was, wasn't she?

Demetri took her by the shoulders and gently, but firmly turned her around, so that she'd face him. "I know this is awful, and I know that he's not helping, but we need to keep it together until this is all over – all of us."

She glared at him. "Tell that to Captain Psychopath over there!"

"I am. I'm saying this to all of you, and to myself. We need to stick together and ignore our differences, or this mission is doomed to failure. Please, don't let that happen." This last bit he was saying purely to her, because in the end, it all did hinge on her ability not to lose control over her hatred.

For another minute, she just kept glowering at him with narrowed eyes and tightly pressed-together lips, but then, she relaxed, rolled her eyes, and blew out a heavy breath. " _Fine_. I'm good. Can we move on, now? It's no fun breathing in all these exhaust fumes."

Letting go of her shoulders, Demetri said, "Thank you, and yes, we can. I suggest we take up residence in a regular house and then try to find out just how bad the situation at the Grand Hotel is."

"I suggest we find my friend, first, and see if she's being mind-controlled by Renesfail or not," Jasper said, good-natured and completely indifferent to all the tension. It was in equal parts vile and admirable, really. At least _he_ was having a good time. He cracked a smile. "If anyone can convince a family to lend us their house and keep quiet about it, it's _her_."

"We'll manage either way, with or without that woman," Bella said, staring at him without blinking.

"There's only one way to find out," Demetri hurried to say, because he'd be damned if he let another discussion break out this quickly. They were already sitting on the metaphorical powder-keg; adding fuel to the fire wasn't exactly smart in this kind of scenario. "Are you fed enough to work your way out of a potential trap?"

"Yes, sir, I am." Jasper glanced at Bella, who nodded. "We both are, as a matter of fact."

Demetri nodded and pulled his sleeves over his hands, before crossing his arms. "Good. Then I suppose it's time you gave your friend a call."

* * *

 **6** **As she was led through a maze of hallways and staircases and doors** , past all kinds of vampires in grey suits and regular civilian clothes, Irina didn't even try to keep up. It was hopeless. Even if Aro were only leading her around two corners, she wouldn't be able to find her way back unless she was allowed to. She was pretty sure she'd only end up right in front of her guest room (prison cell?) again. The only option she had right now was to roll with it. Pitching a fit wouldn't work, moping would be useless. It was better to just keep calm and carry on, wayward daughter. There might even be peace when she was done.

"There's no need to be frightened," he told her, and she really had to fight not to just give in to the reassuring warm tone of his voice. "I don't want to see you dead, dear Irina. What I want is to finally find a cure for your affliction. If there is one, I am convinced that the key to finding it lies with you."

"May I ask how long you've been trying?" Her own voice sounded firmer and more confident than she felt, but this was a useless victory, since he could see right through the façade with one little touch.

"Oh, for about two thousand years, now. Unfortunately, all our previous efforts have been for naught."

They turned another corner to a corridor that was at least a hundred metres long and housed ten heavy metal doors on each side. Ahead was a dead end. There was only one door there, which wasn't simply locked, but secured by two thick iron bars locked across it. He slowed down, and so did she.

All of her muscles coiled. "What is this place?" Her voice was hardly above a whisper.

"This," he said casually, and motioned at each side of the corridor with a quick move of his right hand, "is where we keep the more volatile specimens of our little collection of perilous oddities." From the corner of her eye, she saw him give her a pointed, expectant glance. "Would you like to see the prime item in my possession – the most precious one?"

This couldn't be good. Feebly, she nodded. What else was she supposed to do, anyway? He didn't strike her as a man who took no for an answer, and in this case, there was nothing she could do about it. If he wanted to show her something, then that was exactly what was going to happen. "Sure." Why even try to be eloquent? There was no use for any kind of charade.

"Good," he said, placed his free hand atop hers, and patted it once, before setting into motion again.

She followed uneasily. The silence in this place was dense and syrupy, almost palpable. They hadn't walked ten paces before she realised that in here, the sound of their steps did not echo. As she didn't need to speak, she didn't breathe. Something told her not to, as if this corridor and whatever waited behind those doors were contagious, somehow – toxic.

They stopped dead ahead of the last door, the one that was triple-locked. There was a little, quadrangular window in the thick metal, but it was closed. Behind that was dead silence. The air felt colder, but it wasn't just that. It felt…old. Ancient. Used. Dead. If she'd been physically capable of doing so, Irina would have shuddered.

"Are you ready?" he said, his voice trembling a little. It was still sonorous, even though it had a weirdly muffled quality to it, as if he were speaking to her through water.

She forced herself to nod once.

"Wonderful." He smiled with unmitigated glee, let go of her arm, pulled the little metal covering from the small screen, stepped away, and motioned for her to look inside. "Please."

She didn't want to. Every cell in her body was screaming for her to turn around on her heels and run as fast as she could, as _far_ _away_ from here as she could. It was almost physically painful to make herself take that one step, lean in, and peer through the thick glass. When she saw what was inside, she gasped (oh God _she'd breathed in that foul dead air!_ ), staggered backwards, and slapped her hands to her mouth. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. They _couldn't_ have. How could they…no. _No!_ She turned around and started to stumble away from that horrible place-

"Irina."

Despite herself, she stopped, shut her eyes, pressed her lips together, clenched her fists. She was paralysed, frozen, unable to move to think to speak to _breathe_. It was just too horrible. All of this was just too damn horrible.

"Irina," he said calmly, sounding kind, but how could that be true? _How could that be true?_ "I must ask you to turn around and come back."

"Please don't make me," she whispered, eyes still shut.

"I really have no desire to force you to do anything," he said, very polite and almost compassionate. She heard his steps approaching her, felt his hand on her shoulder. "But I will not let this experiment go to waste before it's even properly begun. Too much depends on it. We need to get through this, you and I, for the greater good. It's all for the greater good. Please, come with me." When she just stayed there, frozen up, he sighed. "There's no need to be afraid. I'll be there the entire time. Besides, it can't get any worse than it already is."

"It can _always_ get worse."

"Still, you can't run away from what needs to be done – none of us can," he said, his voice still strangely echo-less, but warm and inviting. "Please. Come with me."

It was as if she wasn't even in control anymore. She turned around robotically, took the hand he offered her, and meekly allowed him to lead her back to the door. Maybe it would have been better if Caius had won the argument and killed her. Of course it would have been better. Anything, _anything_ at all was better than this – even death. Especially death.

* * *

 **7** **"I have a bad feeling about this,"** Leah told Demetri, as they lazily ambled through the crowds at the Plaza Río shopping mall. "We're doing this song and dance routine to meet up with a person who might be a demon-spawn minion or simply a vindictive psycho, and all we've got for backup is _Jasper_?"

"I can totally hear you, you know?" Jasper piped up cheerily from a few feet behind, Bella by his side.

"I don't care." Leah glanced at Demetri again, who was to her right. "Do you really believe this is our best bet?"

"Yes," he said simply. "It'll be a very public place, so an ambush is unlikely-"

"Unless everyone's brains have already been eaten by the death-baby."

He smiled a little and swerved to avoid colliding with a heavily pregnant lady who was carrying way too many shopping bags. "There's always that, but I can tell you right now that the death-baby herself is firmly entrenched at the Grand Hotel. Any and all minions she might send could be distracted by Jasper, which would at least give us a chance to retreat. Should this woman not be infected, she will want to do whatever she can to help us dethrone the usurper."

"Win-win, then," Leah said dryly.

"Yes," he said. "Win-win."

Something displayed in one of the shop windows caught her eye. Without even thinking about it, she grabbed his elbow as she came to a halt. "That," she said, and pointed at the window. "If you want me to go that place and risk being the lone wolf surrounded by murderous leeches, then I need that. If I am going out, at least I'll be dressed to kill."

"Very well," he said, after a few seconds, "and let me compliment you on your good eye."

* * *

 **8** **They spent a few useless hours in the mall** , since there was really nothing to do until the time for their epic rendezvous rolled around. Leah found something edible at the food court; the vampires behaved – nothing to write home about. Jasper and Bella were fine, only having fuelled up the previous day, but Demetri's eyes – a vampire's fuel gauge, as Leah liked to call it – were so dark, he didn't even need contact lenses. As evening came and she and Bella were about to go into the restrooms to change into something appropriate, she asked him if he was okay, and he said he was. All right, then. It was his life, and he was a grown man. He knew what he was doing. It was his business, not hers.

Still, as she locked herself in one of the stalls and started shimmying out of her jeans, she couldn't help but wonder if his dogged insistence on doing his job in detriment of everything else, his insistence on keeping his promises wasn't really taking too much of a toll. If he were human, she'd tell him that he would be of no use to anyone if he got the vapours because he'd forgotten to take proper care of himself. He wasn't human, though. No, he was a vampire. He couldn't die of starvation. What he could do, however, was flip out and go on a murder-spree. That was definitely within the realm of possibilities.

It wasn't just that, though. She'd meant it when she'd told him that he was a good guy. They didn't know each other for very long, but from all that she had witnessed (especially that night in the storage locker), she could tell. Yes, sure, that might all be an act, but she didn't think so. From what she gathered, he really didn't want anyone to die, and he really didn't want to be personally responsible for anyone's death.

Leah herself had killed vampires. Killing vampires was her business. It was her duty. Hell, it was fused into her genetic make-up. Was it wrong to kill a vampire? No, not if that meant eliminating a people-eating monster. All the ones she'd killed had been murderers. She'd been totally justified in eliminating them.

Yeah.

It had been horrible. In the heat of battle, she hadn't cared, but in the aftermath? The faces of those leeches wouldn't leave her alone. Blonde tall girl in red blouse. Skinny kid in a soccer jersey. Short lady. Chubby boy. Pixie-haircut girl. They'd been undead parasitic monsters, yes, yes, but they had been _people_ – sentient, sapient forms of life. It had been either her or them, and Leah had killed them in order to survive. They were gone because of her. They had ceased to exist. Sometimes, even after all these months, she still caught herself thinking about those vamps, idly imagining what their lives had been like when they'd still been human.

Sometimes, she still dreamed about them.

Killing was an awful business, and no amount of justification or rationalisation made it any better. If you took a life, you gave a bit of your own, and that was fact. She was pretty sure that if any vampire felt the same way about killing, it was Demetri. No, they hadn't known each other for long, but from all he'd said and done, from how he interacted with Jasper and Bella, from _everything_ , she could tell. She might still be wrong, of course, but she liked to think that she was not. She liked to believe in the good that she saw in someone, no matter who that someone might be – even if he was a vampire.

When she was done dressing up, she stuffed her everyday-clothes into the now empty plastic bag, left the stall, and scrutinised herself in the mirror. The result wasn't too shabby. She was wearing a strapless, dark-green dress with a sweetheart neckline that was pretty snug and went halfway down her thighs. To go along, she'd bought a pair of black pumps and a not-too-sparkly necklace – costume jewellery, of course. No need to be wasteful. That would just be tacky. Thankfully, her neck-wound had all but closed over the course of the day and was hardly visible anymore. After taking a deep breath (and trying not to feel silly), she stepped out of the restroom, where the others were waiting.

Of course, the first one to comment was Creepula. He – still in his t-shirt and sports jacket combo – looked her up and down, nodded, and whistled lowly. Then, he gave her the thumbs-up. "You clean up nice."

"And you can go straight to hell," she replied sweetly, briefly looking over Bella's beige cocktail dress and approving. Then, Leah turned to her only friend in the ensemble. His face expressed nothing. "Appropriate?"

He looked at her for a second, before doing that sleeves-over-hands-pulling thing he loved so much, and nodded curtly. "Very. I suggest we blend into the crowd close to the club and wait in public until the right time has come. Is everyone in agreement?"

Everyone was in agreement. Dolled up and ready to hit the town, they set out.

* * *

 **9** **Soon enough, midnight was there** , and the quartet took a cab to a very crowded club called Las Pulgas – the flees.

"If you make a single pun about that name and anything related to wolves, I will castrate you," Leah told Jasper, as they stepped out of the cool night air and into the sweaty gloom of the club. It was a big place with a pretty huge dancefloor and a stage, on which a rock band was giving their best. The music was loud, but it was decent, too, and the crowd was dancing and cheering and drinking and basically just having an innocent good time.

"I would never!" Jasper yelled right into her ear, louder than he had to, despite the impressive level of noise going on in there.

"Let's get the lay of the land," Demetri said into her other ear, knowing the other two leeches could hear him just fine. "You two go that way" – He pointed right and ahead – "Leah and I will go that way. It'll look less conspicuous and will be less threatening to the vampires in the crowd."

"There are…" Leah trailed off, blinked, breathed, focussed. Oh, yes, there were at least five of them, spread out between the clubbers, pretending to party, watching. One – a short-ish, twenty-something looking young man – had already spotted them. "Hey, Jasper, friend of yours?"

"Not yet! I'll go look for the friend I do know! Come along, Miss Swan! Let's go mingle." He took Bella's hand and pulled her away, into the crowd.

"We should go, too," Demetri said, very briefly touching her elbow and then immediately withdrawing his hand again.

She meant to say something, but two very big and beefy dudes squeezed themselves between her and Demetri, pushing past without even looking. One of them stepped on her shoe. She bit her tongue and cursed silently. God, like this, they were never going to get anywhere, and they might even get separated, which would be criminally stupid. This wasn't a bad slasher movie where the protagonists made dumb decisions because the plot said so. It was time to stop being squeamish. Rolling her eyes at herself and at him, she took his icy hand and unceremoniously started pulling him through the perspiring masses of partying humans. After a few seconds' worth of hesitation, he closed his fingers around hers. This tip-toeing bullshit was a little ridiculous, wasn't it?

" _I'm not contagious_ ," she shouted at him over her shoulder, as they pushed past a table surrounded by jeering and hollering young people, who were spilling drinks all over the place. " _I thought you'd realised that when you had to hug me and keep me from scratching my own face off!_ "

" _That's not why_ -" He hastily interrupted himself and tugged on her arm, spinning her around to face him, pulled her close to himself, and said into her ear, "Dance with me, _now!_ "

The confusion went away quicker than the vertigo, and she had to cling to the lapels of his dark suit jacket in order not to fall on her butt. Then, she tried to make it look normal as she put a hand on his shoulder and took his other, while he lightly placed his free hand on her waist. "What is it?" She only mouthed this, frowning.

"Behind you, mind-controlled humans – several of them. I don't know who by," he said, again directly into her ear. "They might be on the lookout. Let me watch them for a minute. Try to act naturally."

This was all so absurd. She looked him straight in the eye and laughed, unable to help herself. "I'm so sorry," she managed to say after a few seconds, giggling, as he watched her with a puzzled look on his face. "This happens to me all the time. Blown fuse and all."

"You're supposed to look happy, so it's okay," he said, putting his arm around her waist and starting to move to the music.

She did, too.

Wow. They were dancing. They were actually _dancing_. A dub-step-heavy, guitar-loaded, Spanish rock song was pumping through the sweat-laden air, and here she was, dancing with a vampire, just another drop in a swaying sea of bodies. The crowd was getting larger and there was little to no room to manoeuvre in. Through both their clothes, she could feel the coolness of his skin; her own broke out in gooseflesh.

"You're really cold," she said, apologetic, and feeling exceedingly silly for it. The whole situation was silly, despite the very real danger.

He smiled down at her merrily, visibly contaminated by her panicky giggly-fit – despite her assurances that she was not contagious. It made him look young. It made him look human. That was nice. "And you're really hot." The moment those words were out of his mouth, his eyes grew wide. Then, he squinted, looked up at the ceiling, and made a pained face. "Yes. Well. That sounded, uh… _quite_ different in my head – wittier and less filled with unfortunate connotations. I apologise."

"Why?" she said, giggling again, because this was absurd and juvenile and inappropriate due to the zombified-human situation, due to the potential-trap-by-vampire situation, and mostly because…because. This wasn't supposed to be a fun night out with good friends. This was a mission of life and death, and here she was, laughing. Well, once in Bizarro World, always in Bizarro World. She decided to just roll with it. If you couldn't have a good time at the prospect of enslavement or untimely demise, when _could_ you? "Don't apologise. I am pretty hot."

After giving her the eyebrow for a second, he snorted laughter. "Speaking as someone who is constantly freezing, it's nice to have a furnace to dance with. You've only stepped on my feet twice in the past twenty seconds, too."

"Ha-ha," she said, grimaced, and then cleared her throat. Time for serious business again. "The mind-controlled humans?"

The smile melted right off his face. "Loitering. It seems to be vampiric compulsion, but I can't tell for sure."

"It is," a voice said from her right.

They let go of each other and turned around as quickly as possible, given the circumstances. Jasper and Bella were just standing there, the former smirking like a jackass and the latter deadpan. To Jasper's right stood an averagely-sized, rather voluptuous, dark-haired and pasty young woman with uncannily symmetrical doll-features – a vampire, of course. Of course. Those damn things were _everywhere_ these days. Now that Leah had seen her, it was a marvel she hadn't smelled her, first. This lady stank like she'd taken a long bath in the contents of all jasmine perfumes in the world. It was a little sickening, but at least it cleared the nostrils.

"Found her," Jasper said, jabbing his thumb at the woman.

"Yes, you did," Curvy Vamp said, sticking out the tip of her tongue between her teeth and giving him the lewdest smile Leah had ever had the misfortune of witnessing a person give another. Hoo boy. "Do you remember me, handsome?" Curvy Vamp's eyes were trained on Demetri.

"I do," came the clipped reply from Leah's left. Good on him, not being impressed by someone who made goo-goo eyes at fucking Jasper.

The woman turned her attention to Leah and looked her up and down, making her feel weirdly naked. "I would remember if I'd ever met you, because I can tell just by looking at you that you are _truly_ memorable," she said, and held out her sickly-pale hand. "Hello, by the way. I'm Maria."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: A little heads-up for mild sexy-times abounding - nothing graphic. Just so you know. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Your insightful thoughts on my little story are really appreciated. **

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

 **1** **Of course, vampires being swanky show-offs** , Maria didn't sensibly hide out where finding her would be nigh-on impossible, i.e. in the slums. Instead, she opted for a huge tacky house one block away from the beach, located in the Playas de Tijuana borough. Thankfully, the house was otherwise unoccupied, meaning Leah didn't have to deal with a bunch of black-eyed zombie-humans lurching about. She did have to deal with the three leech bodyguards that accompanied the woman at all times, though. Luckily, once they reached the house, those three positioned themselves strategically around it, instead of clogging up the area with their sugary stench.

The ragtag little band settled down in the duplex's huge living room, as if Leah hadn't had enough lounging about in ritzy living rooms to last her a lifetime or two. Before that, though, they'd picked up Sue's car, and she had changed back into her comfy clothes. It was better ripping those apart in an emergency wolf-out than the new dress. There was no replacement for that one.

"So, how exactly does your power work?" she said to Maria, who was occupying the white leather couch with Bella and Jasper. Leah and Demetri were on the other leather couch, this one terracotta. She was nursing a cup of coffee.

Maria rearranged her femme-fatale pose she'd no doubt been practicing since the nineteenth century and shook back a few locks of her dark hair. "I can charm individual people to be inclined to do what I want. In the case of humans, it's basic mind-control activated by my voice." There must have been some measure of the horror Leah felt reflected on her face, because Maria cracked a radiant smile and waved off. "Don't worry. It only ever lasts for about twenty-four hours, the extent of the control is limited, and it has no side-effects."

"Apart from the fact that you turn them into drones," Leah said, giving her a black look. Maybe she was being unfair toward this vamp, but the vamp was an old friend of Jasper's – hell, she'd turned him – and Leah was not inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. Also, she had no reason to believe a single word coming out of that woman's mouth. She briefly wondered if that truly creepy power would work on her. "Supernatural charm, huh? So why are you here, ruling a city, instead of being safely tucked away in Volterra?"

"Because, as your friend has assured me the last time he was here, the Volturi are not about eradicating other covens, but about keeping the peace and the secrecy of the vampire world. It serves the balance of power, too," Maria said, sort-of solemn now. Like Jasper, she probably had issues with taking anything completely seriously. At least it seemed that way. "Having a law-abiding coven in power in these parts makes their job much easier, isn't that right?"

"It is," Demetri said, not overly enthusiastic. This was probably due to two main reasons: a) he must be getting painfully thirsty at this point, and b) he wasn't even trying to disguise the fact that he didn't particularly like any of these people. Again, good on him.

"You have a pretty impressive ability, though – an ability that might give you ideas," Leah pressed on, and sipped her coffee. It tasted different from the stuff she was used to: richer, spicier, _better_. Only the best of the best for the owners of this palace. In her mind, Leah toasted them. Their house was butt-ugly, but their coffee was awesome. "Or, alternatively, an ability that they might want." She wasn't even sure what she was doing, but after the funny-fuse blowing moment at that club, getting some general answers to practical questions couldn't hurt. The more she knew about how vampire politics worked, the better she'd get at doing her job.

Maria laughed softly. "I wouldn't get any ideas because I don't want to die," she said, giving Demetri a pointed look. "The players they have are much more powerful than I am. Also, they don't need another charmer. They already have the best one."

"Aro," Demetri said. "There's also Chelsea and Corin and a whole lot of others who are either stronger than any of their non-Volturi counterparts, or simply immune to manipulative empathic powers." He looked squarely at Jasper, who chuckled.

"For the last time: I am not trying to overthrow the government. I know that you have friends that have abilities to outmatch mine, and don't think I haven't noticed that tomboyish little Corin is immune to what I can do because of her own gift."

"You forgot to mention the fact that you too are seemingly immune to purely mental abilities," Leah said, smiling wryly. "I think it would be better for everyone if the Volturi just threw you into a volcano. Better safe than sorry." She batted her eyelashes at Jasper, wondering if this got the general 'fuck-you' sentiment across as well than giving him the finger would.

"Am I immune to all of them, or just the ones that rely on sentiment?" Jasper said, and winked at Leah. "Ah, the little mysteries of everyday life!"

"Can we move on, please?" Bella said, visibly and audibly irritated, arms crossed, sitting to Jasper's right with a petulant little pout on her face. She had changed into a silk blouse and black pants. "We have serious business to discuss."

"Yes, we do, sweetness," Maria said, either oblivious to the tension, or wilfully ignoring it. It was probably the latter. "You're completely right, and may I just say that you are absolutely _divine!_ No wonder our Jasper here likes you so much."

"It has something to do with the fact that she never tried to kill me," he said jovially, and patted Maria's bare knee.

"You never know what the future will bring, dear. She doesn't know you as well as I do," Maria said, and laughed again. "Never mind that, though. The delightful Miss Isabella is right: we do have serious business to discuss. This morning, everything was running smoothly, just the way I like it. I'd just spent the night slapping a couple of careless new-borns on the wrist and was returning to my humble abode at the Grand Hotel. Imagine my surprise when I walked into that place and found it populated by brain-washed monsters that were being controlled by a hybrid hive queen." She snorted derisively and snapped her fingers. "Just like that, I was deposed. The little snot sent two of her minions down to the lobby to collect me, but luckily, I'm pretty good at getting myself out of tight spots. The hotel, it seems, is lost for the moment. Do you beautiful people have a plan that will result in the restoration of my beloved status quo?"

"The demon-spawn needs to die," Leah said, staring into her now half-empty mug. When she looked up, she saw that all eyes were on her. "I think we can all agree on that. It went from slowly corrupting the minds of people it touched to taking over an entire hotel inside of…I don't know, a few hours? There's no way she personally slapped her hand to every single face. Her powers are growing quicker and quicker. What's gonna happen in a week? Will she have turned all of Baja California into her own personal Borg collective?"

"Yes," Demetri said, a grave expression on his face. His eyes were huge and conspicuously black in his pale face. "That or worse. This is the most powerful dhampir I've ever seen. It needs to be stopped within the next few days. I have no idea what will happen if we don't manage to accomplish that, but I don't think I need to emphasise that whatever it is, it will be bad news for everyone."

"Great," Maria said cheerily, looking from one to the other slowly, and clapped her hands together once. "That's settled, then. The question is, how do we get to her, and if we do, how do we prevent her from taking us out?"

"I may be immune to her mind-control, but I am not immune against that weird scream of power," Jasper said, and chewed on his plump lower lip. "It caught me at unawares at the house, so I don't know what'll happen if I go in knowing what to expect. I suspect that this power's only gotten stronger, though, and is probably not limited to screaming anymore. Bella is probably completely immune. Mental powers don't affect her at all – only physical ones do. It's why I can affect her, but Edward couldn't, and neither can their daughter."

"Blocking out a voice is doable," Demetri said. "Everything else presents a challenge. The dhampir will be surrounded by drones: vampires, humans, a werewolf. There is literally no way to inconspicuously get to her, and when we do, we'll be walking into the situation blindly. We don't know what the true extent of her abilities is. From what I gather, she is rather immune to Jasper's power."

"Sadly, yes," Jasper said, running a hand through his hair and leaning back. "I tried quieting that little brat down a number of times, but she didn't even notice it."

"Given the fact that your ability _is_ physical and not mental, that's bad news for us," Bella said, watching him intently. "It means Maria's power won't work. It means Aro's power wouldn't work, either." She glanced at Demetri. "It looks like I'm the only one who _can_ kill her, because I'm the only one who can get close enough to her at all."

"As far as we know," Leah said, emptied her mug, and set it down on the glass coffee table between the two couches. She briefly wondered if she should go look for a coaster, but scolded herself for being a moron. Like it mattered. More relevant was the fact that apparently, she would actually _be_ starring in a cop-buddy comedy alongside Bella Swan! Hurray! It was awesome being right!

Yeah.

" 'As far as we know' is the best bet we have," Bella said.

"It doesn't solve the problem of how to get to her without drawing all kinds of public attention to ourselves," Demetri said, "or running the risk of being integrated into her collective. I don't have to tell you that that would be an unmitigated disaster."

"We can play into their erroneous belief that we will bow to their wishes due to the hostage situation," Bella said.

Leah stared at her out of wide eyes. It was as if someone had emptied a bucketful of ice-water on her head. "That's Charlie you're pompously talking about here, Captain Purple Prose! Your _father!_ Show some fucking compassion, you sociopathic little brat!"

Bella met her look squarely. "He's gonna die, anyway. He knows too much and he's been exposed to Renesmee. There's no way he's gonna make it out of this alive. It makes more sense to use his presence to our advantage than to bemoan his already sealed fate."

This pretentious and arrogant little shit deserved a good hiding. No, screw that, she deserved to be boiled alive. Leah shook her head slowly. Her hands were numb. She felt as if all the warmth had been sucked out of her body. "Can you at least _try_ not to be this callous about it? Apart from the fact that there is a good chance that we might still save him." An awkward, heavy silence ensued. She scanned all their faces. Bella and Jasper were looking meaningfully at each other, Demetri was staring down at his clasped hands, and Maria was studying her. She almost barked out an irritated ' _what'_ , but then, the penny dropped. This was a sucker-punch, right in the gut. Her stomach cramped; her throat constricted. "The rule of secrecy," she said, her voice toneless.

Another good number of seconds ticked by in uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Demetri looked up with visible effort and locked eyes with her. "I'm so sorry."

Leah just stared back at him, her mind drawing a blank. This was…this…how the hell had she not seen this coming? A voice in her head timidly reminded her that usually, her temper would get the best of her, that she would scream at them for being undead monsters, that she would furiously tell them to go fuck themselves, that she would then storm out of the house to be alone until she calmed down a bit. She did none of those things, though. No, she just stared at Yuppie Brit, the Friendly Vampire, unable to sort out her scrambled thoughts. "You're gonna kill Charlie," she whispered. "You're gonna _kill Charlie_."

"I won't have a choice. Bella is right: he'll be infected, and-"

"So was Irina, and she got a nice little free trip to Italy!" Was this really happening? It couldn't be. This _couldn't be happening!_

"The law is the law," Maria said softly, sounding honestly sympathetic. "If we start making exceptions to the rule, it'll only endanger everyone else."

Leah was still gawking at the obviously unhappy Demetri, still trying to gather her thoughts. "I…but…it's Charlie, I…" The protest petered out rather pathetically. She didn't have a good counter-argument. It was their law, and it was a reasonable one. The good of the many, blah, blah, blah. That didn't make it right, though. That didn't make it _right_.

"Let's say there is a way to break the demon-spawn mind-control," Jasper said. All eyes were on him. He was looking directly at Leah. "I know you all think there isn't, but let's say there's hope for one. Let's say an infected person can be isolated and kept in quarantine until a cure is found for this particular infection. Would that be a reason to keep the infected person in question alive?"

"Yes," Demetri said wearily, "which is why Irina isn't dead, yet. She's the most promising candidate for finally finding a cure…at least one for this one specific dhampir's powers. That doesn't solve the problem of Chief Swan being a human who knows too much." He gave Irina another pained look. "If there were any other way to-"

"There is, and it's pretty simple, too," Jasper cut in, spreading out his arms so that he basically had one around Maria's and one around Bella's shoulders. When everyone looked at him again, he shrugged and pulled up one corner of his mouth in a Crooked Smirk of Doom™. It made Leah want to either punch him or, alternatively, knock herself out. "Make him stop being human. It's the Volturi's usual _modus operandi_ , isn't it? Turn or die?"

As if on cue, everyone now stared at Demetri, who straightened his posture. "I…in Chief Swan's case, I really hadn't thought of that, to be honest."

"And with good reason," Leah said, more or less able to shake off her shock, now. "He wouldn't want to be a leech."

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to be dead, either, but those are his only two options," Jasper said, smiling down at Bella, who was staring at him in what looked like pure awe. "Who knows, maybe a transformation from human to vampire will even break the hold Renesmee has on him. Maybe he isn't even infected. Edward always said his mind was quiet. It may very well be the case that he has the same power as Bella."

"He'll probably still be infected," Demetri said. "Powers are always less pronounced in humans."

Jasper raised his eyebrows at him. "That's beside the point. Turn him, and he might not even be infected anymore at all. At the very least it would solve the Volturi law conundrum."

"Yes," Bella said, and placed a hand on his dark-washed-jeans-clad right leg. "I say turn him."

"I'd give him the choice, first, providing that we even get the chance to free him," Demetri said, using a tone of voice Leah could only describe as cautiously optimistic.

"You people and your _turning perfectly healthy humans into monsters!_ " Leah buried her face in her hands and groaned. Why did everything always have to be complicated, and why were the only solutions to these complications complete nightmares? The worst part was, she couldn't come up with anything better. After taking a few steadying breaths, she raised her head again and brushed some rebellious strands of hair behind her ears with slightly shaky fingers. "Whatever. We'll see about that when and if we get the chance. Until then, we need a plan on how to get to the death-baby without dying or being converted."

"Or becoming international news," Demetri said.

"Well," Maria said, a little smile playing with her full, dark-red lips, "I might be able to be of some assistance."

* * *

 **2** **In a thousand years, the inability to weep had not weighed as heavily on Irina as it did now.** She stared at the creature inside that cell, her face contorted into a mask of anguish, her whole body rigid. The creature stared right back at her out of huge, round, red eyes. It wasn't a creature at all. It was a little boy. It was a small, thin, round-faced, blond little boy in home-made wool clothes. He was enchantingly beautiful, but he was crying – crying thick, impossible tears. The tears were impossible because that little boy wasn't human; he was a vampire. Still, he wept profusely, tears rolling down his cheeks. He held his chubby little arms out to her, wordlessly begging her to save him from all this nameless horror.

Despite herself, Irina pressed her cold hand against the even colder metal of the door. Oh, how she wished she could cry, too. She felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside. This wasn't just any little boy. It was Vasilii. A millennium had gone by, and yet the pain of his loss was still a gaping wound.

"What do you see?" Aro said quietly, a slight, expectant tremble underlying his otherwise very pleasant voice.

"An immortal child," she whispered, pressed her lips together, and shut her eyes. "Aleksandra's immortal child."

" _Fascinating_ ," Aro said, and exhaled sharply. "Absolutely fascinating. Incredible, even. Is he saying anything?"

"No. He's crying," she replied in a quiet, thoughtful, resigned tone. "Can't you hear him?"

"There's nothing to hear," he said, clearly awed, and uttered a low, enchanted little chortle. "Amazing, isn't it? Even though we've taken away the dhampir's ability to use its voice for mind-control, it still can render a vampire completely helpless just by making her see it how it wants her to see it."

Irina turned her back on the door and stared at him, willing him to understand how painful, how awful all of this was. She felt heavy, empty, as if all life-force had been drained out of her. Her throat burned, and her limbs ached dully. Her head was pounding. "This is a _half-breed_?"

He cracked a smile. There was a spark in his eyes. "Oh, yes. The most powerful we've ever encountered. It managed to contaminate ten of our best fighters and almost got strong enough to defeat us. Thankfully, due to the dedication and commitment of people such as Demetri, we were able to render it relatively harmless," he said, and leaned in a little, as if to conspire. "Don't tell Demetri, though. He firmly believes that this creature has been dead for the past six-hundred years."

The soft sound of child-like weeping behind her made her want to run fast and far – as far away as possible. She just stood there, though, staring at her captor, paralysed and cold. "You've kept this dhampir locked up in there _for the past six centuries?_ "

"It tried to escape a few times, but I found ways of immobilising it," he said, still smiling, still sounding enthralled and almost ecstatic. "The bars are mostly there to keep vampires that might fall victim to its powers out. We have other ways of ensuring that that won't happen, but with this specimen, one can never be too careful." He stepped forward and stretched out a hand, lazily tracing the contours of the little window with his fingertips before shutting it again. Instantly, the sound of weeping stopped. "This _thing_ ," he said, his voice laden with contempt, "oh, this wretched little thing, it was born with so much power, and yet all it ever wanted to do with it was to crush the whole world under its boot-heel so that the world would have no choice but to love it desperately. Pathetic, isn't it?" The disdainful expression melted off his face, and he focussed his attention on Irina again, smiling. His eyes were shining. "Tell me, did you really hear it cry?"

Feeling strangely detached from herself, Irina nodded slowly.

The smile broadened considerably, and he laughed; he actually laughed. " _Fascinating!_ It can still project sound into the minds of its victims. That is truly amazing. I must say, I'm absolutely astounded."

"Why wouldn't…" It wasn't that hard for her to answer her own question, though. Again, horror made her freeze up. "Oh, my God, did you…I mean, you couldn't…"

"Remove its vocal chords?" The smile morphed slightly, gaining a mischievous, boyish quality. "Absolutely. I would have had to kill it, otherwise, but that seemed like such a waste. I believe that if we manage to finally find someone who is immune to its mind-control, even if not its ability to project an image of itself, then we will be able to protect ourselves against its like…maybe it will even be allowed to live under less harsh conditions. Naturally, we can't ever set it free, but we can make it more comfortable."

"That's…that's a sapient person in there, that's-"

"I know that. I don't keep it like this out of sadism, dear girl," he said, taking her by the hands, staring right into her mind. His expression turned sympathetic. "I have no desire to inflict suffering on anyone. My job is a thankless one. I need to protect our civilisation, but also the human populace, who has to remain ignorant of the existence of creatures such as us and this dhampir. These…these _things_ are dangerous, and this one was nearly unstoppable. It corrupted a good number of individuals who were very dear to me, and whose loss pains me to this day. I don't want to keep it chained up and mutilated like an animal."

"Death would've been the kinder option."

Again, he smiled, but it was cryptic, impossible to read. "Yes, it would have. We have eliminated all the others of its kind that we came across. This one, though…this one's a challenge. I don't want to end the life of something this…" He trailed off, chewed on the inside of his lower lip, shrugged, and chuckled. "Something this unique. It's too interesting, and I know that it holds the key to unlocking all the mesmerising mysteries of its kind. Sadly, our experiments have thus far not yielded any positive result. With your arrival, though, I'm sure that we have reached a tipping point."

She didn't even want to begin to think about what those experiments might have looked like. Instead, she said, "What can _I_ do? I'm already infected by Renesmee."

There it was again, that strange gleam in his eyes. "Ah! That's precisely it. You have been infected by a different dhampir, yes, but you are also more resilient than anyone in your unfortunate position, despite displaying symptoms of being linked to her. I wonder what will happen if you get exposed to this one."

It was useless, and still she couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath. " _What?_ You actually want me to-"

"Yes. Yes, I do," he said, smiling so warmly that she couldn't stop herself from relaxing. He then placed his right hand on the side of her face. "We've never attempted this due to sad lack of test subjects, but you can change _everything_. Don't you see? You're already bound to another half-breed, and you are quite resistant to it. If you touch this one and it tries to take over, who knows what'll happen? It's worth finding out, don't you think?"

So this was why her life had been spared. She was supposed to become a guinea pig in the world's most horrifying experiment. "No, I can't…I _can't_."

"It can't actually turn you into a drone; it's too weak. You want to know what I think will happen?" He was beaming, now, looking through her more than he was looking at her. "I think your current compulsion will war with whatever this one here is able to force on you, and they will cancel each other out." His eyes focussed on hers again, and he tenderly caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. "If you see it the way it really looks like, I'll be right. From there on, we'll know whether you, my dear, are the key to solving this millennia-old puzzle. Now, isn't that absolutely _fascinating_?"

"What if it doesn't work?" she whispered, defeated, arms hanging loosely at her sides. How heavy she felt. How heavy and weary and ancient.

"Then we'll have to find another way. The research is never over. Don't worry, dear Irina. It'll be all right. Everything will be just fine." He cupped her face and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her forehead. When he looked her in the eye, that warm smile was back, turning him into the centre of the universe again. It had to be part of his power – it just had to. "I'm going to unlock this door, now, and you are going to go in there and very briefly touch its face. Then, you'll step back and tell me what you see."

"I wish I could hate you," she said, and stepped aside to let him unlock those bars and the door (and wondered what kind of metal this was that was strong enough to keep a vampire out). "I can't, though. How many other things are going to be taken away from me?"

"I wouldn't see it that way," he said cheerily, turning the key in the final lock. "Your life has taken some unfortunate turns, yes, but now you have the chance to make a truly amazing contribution to vampire society. That's a cause for celebration, not grief." Then, he grabbed the door handle and gave her a gleeful beam. "Ready?"

"I suppose so."

" _Wonderful_." Slowly and with obvious effort, he pulled the door open. "Fiora, dear, I want you to meet the lovely Miss Irina Horváthová," he said, and beckoned Irina inside the cell. "Please. Go ahead. It's all right."

Feeling like an automaton, Irina robotically stepped inside that dreadful cell, eyes closed. There it was again, that awful, _awful_ weeping sound in her head, begging her to make the misery stop. Behind her, the metal door was shut with a deep, forbidding rumble. It caused her physical pain to re-open her eyes, take in the quadrangular shape of the grey, stone walls, and then to make herself look at the fragile little boy just sitting there on the naked floor, cross-legged. He stared at her out of those vampire eyes, crying tears that weren't possible for an immortal child.

This wasn't Vasilii. This wasn't a helpless, poor little boy. This was a dhampir. It was a creature that had been locked up and experimented on for the past six centuries.

It was also a monster that had once been powerful enough to nearly wipe out the strongest vampire coven in all of history. Irina thought of Renesmee, of her terrible, fledgling abilities, her selfishness, her casual cruelty. Irina remembered her own fear of having her personality completely wiped out by this one horrible little creature. At the same time, this here was no way to keep any sentient, let alone a sapient being locked up – locked up for over half a millennium. Yes, Aro had good reasons for it. No, that didn't make it right.

The weeping in her head got stronger, as if the dhampir could hear her thoughts and was dialling up the plea for mercy as much as it was able to.

A strange, strangled whimper escaped Irina's lips. She whispered, "I'm so sorry," and then got it over with. In a flash, she darted forward, touched her fingertips to the boy's small and round forehead, and backed off again, crashing against the metal door.

Then, she saw it. She _saw_ it. Oh, God. Oh, God.

She'd been right: death would have been the kinder option.

* * *

 **3** **Jacob was sitting with Nessie in the living area of the Grand Hotel presidential suite**. Nessie was watching cartoons on TV, not bothered by the fact that they were in Spanish, not looking for American channels. Charlie was sleeping in one of the single beds in an adjacent room, and Barbie…Barbie was by the window, staring outside, scanning the crowds below for potential threats. They'd failed to acquire Jasper's old flame Maria, which was a dent in their plans, but not catastrophically so. They still were in control of the hotel, and more allies were going to follow. At the moment, all they could do was wait for the inevitable attack. This time, they wouldn't run. They'd stand their ground. They'd stomp everyone who was a threat into the ground. Nessie said that it would be all right, that all would end up _seeing_ , and Jacob had no choice but to believe her.

This crap had gotten worse, hadn't it? Up until a few days ago, he'd still been able to disagree with her in his mind, to not want something that she wanted. What the hell had happened to that?

Was the old Jacob completely gone?

He shifted his weight, uncomfortable. It was better not to think about these things at all. He was here, with his Nessie, and she was healthy and happy and confident. Nothing else mattered. No-one else mattered. Fuck, he didn't matter. She was the sun around which he orbited. That was the truth of it, and it was irreversible. Maybe it was better to stop struggling against the imprint altogether. It would be easier, in any case. It would be less draining.

The chime of a phone dragged him out of his pity-party. He raised his eyebrows at Barbie, who pulled her cell out of her pocket and frowned as she stared at the display. "It's Bella."

"That's just great," he mumbled, leaned his head back, and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Nessie perked up. "My momma? Does she want to join us? Tell her that I forgive her, Aunt Rose! Tell her that I love her!"

Jacob just put an arm around her frail, slim shoulders, and kissed the top of her head, inhaling deeply the sweet, floral fragrance of her hair.

"Yes, sweetie." Barbie took the call. In a much harsher tone, she said, "You heard her. What do you want?" Barely three seconds later, she was standing right in front of Jacob, holding out the phone. "She wants to talk to you and offer a deal."

Frowning and with hesitation – because yeah, right, Bells – he took the phone, careful not to touch Barbie's icky corpse hands. "What?"

" _Jake_ ," Bella's weird, flat vampire voice said from the other end of the line. " _Is my dad okay? Are you all okay?_ "

"We're fine, thanks," he said, exchanging a meaningful look with Barbie, who hunkered down in front of Nessie, beaming.

"Honey, why don't we both look at the room service menu and see what human food we can order you for breakfast, hm?"

Nessie pouted. " _But my momma's on the line!_ "

"She wants a private word with Jacob to see if she can make it all right again." Barbie held out her arms. "Come with me, angel. It'll be fun; you'll see."

"Okay." Nessie jumped into Barbie's waiting arms. Barbie kissed her on the cheek, and they sauntered off into the kitchen.

Covering his aching eyes with his free hand, Jacob said, "We're peachy. We're just _super_. We'll be better once I get my hands on that traitorous peace of crap, Jasper…and Leah, while we're on the subject."

" _Jake, listen to me: we don't want any more trouble_."

Jacob scoffed. "Who's _we_ , Bells? You with the Volturi now? Congratulations. Finally moving up in the world. Wasn't enough for Leah to whore herself out to those undead freaks."

In the background, there was some laughter. Sounded like Creepula. Yeah, he'd be one to laugh at this kind of shit. Asshole.

Bella, however, kept completely composed, and said, " _I want my dad back, and I want no-one else to get hurt. I lost my husband. I lost so many people. I don't want to lose you or my daughter. Please, let's find a peaceful solution_."

"You're with fucking Jasper and the Volturi, which at the moment includes my cousin. How the _hell_ am I supposed to trust you, huh? _Tell me!_ " He punched his own leg in frustration.

" _If you recall, I was knocked out against my will. I'm currently only alive because I might be able to talk some sense into you. The Volturi didn't attack us back at the house. That was Sam and his pack. I have assurances from one of the Volturi leaders that no-one else will be harmed if they don't pose a threat to their laws_."

"And what are those laws?"

" _Secrecy. The human world must never, under no circumstances find out about the supernatural world. That's all it is, really._ "

"Okay. Easy enough. We'll stay here, hidden, and tell no-one that we're not humans. There. Problem solved."

" _It's not that simple and you know it. Look, I'm calling you because I want to make sure my dad is still alive, and because you and I are friends, Jake. I want to find a peaceful solution and I know that you would do anything to make sure Nessie is safe. I-_ "

Staring blankly up at the ceiling, he said, "Charlie's fine. He's sleeping."

" _Let's meet up and talk, just you and me, in a public place. I'll carry the Volturi's terms, and you'll carry Renesmee's_."

That actually sounded viable. He sat up straight (and chose to ignore that she'd said 'Renesmee's terms' instead of 'your terms'). "Okay, but I get to choose the venue and the time."

" _Done. We'll both come alone, talk, and work this out. We can do it – I know we can. I just want my dad to be okay, and you just want to make sure nobody hurts Renesmee. We all want the same thing: to live our lives in peace_."

It might still be a trap, but Jacob hadn't been born yesterday. Closely studying the dirt under his short fingernails, he said, "Yeah, I hear ya. Let's do this. Let's work it out."

* * *

 **4** **The moment Bella disconnected the call, her eyes found Jasper.** He was standing by one of the living room windows, watching her as they were all watching her.

"How did I do?" she said.

A truly dazzling smile spread across his beautiful face. "You did great, sweetheart. I almost believed you."

"Yay, Bella's a great liar," Leah said flatly. She was sitting on the couch, eating sugary cereal out of a brightly orange ceramic bowl. "So, when do we set this brilliant plan in action?"

"At dusk. Jacob wouldn't have it any other way."

"He's probably going to double-cross you," Demetri said, leaning against the wooden doorframe that led out to the entrance area and the spiral staircase. "Renesmee won't let him walk into a potential trap unprepared."

"Well, to be fair, she'll have a point," Jasper said.

"They'll be going through the same thought-processes as we are and will take countermeasures," Demetri said. It didn't take a telepath to deduce that he didn't approve of this little plan one iota. It was his problem. He'd been outvoted.

"We'll be ready for that," Maria, who was all but attached to Jasper, said, confidence oozing out of her alt voice and her posture.

For the first time ever since being turned, Bella felt like punching someone in the face. Luckily, she had her reactions somewhat under control for the moment. She said, "Since we don't have anything urgent to take care of at the moment, could I talk to you for a minute, Jasper…in private?"

"That's gonna be difficult in here," he said, tilting his head slightly to the side, watching her with unblinking interest. There must be something in her face betraying her irritation, though, because he then said, "The neighbouring house is empty, as well. Why don't we go have a nice, quiet little chat there?"

"Good idea." Bella turned around on her heels and marched outside without looking back even once.

Not a minute later, there they were, alone, in the equally ritzy but less pastel-coloured living room of some unsuspecting rich family's beach house.

He closed the light, toothpaste-green blinds and then positioned himself right in front of Bella, who was standing in the middle of the room, between a big, red sofa and a humongous flat-screen TV. "Might telling me what the matter is?"

"I just want to ask you a simple little question," she said, arms crossed, chin jutted out. Yes, she was probably pouting, and yes, it probably looked ridiculous. She didn't care. This wasn't a pose for an audience. "What do you see in that woman?"

His fair eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. "Maria? What _don't_ I see in her? She's beautiful, smart, talented, ruthless, and damn sexy."

It was worse than a slap in the face. It was…no, it wasn't like being dumped by Edward in the middle of the woods, or even being spurned by Jacob during his early werewolf days. This was something new. This was something she'd never quite experienced before, even though she remembered what rage felt like. This new sensation didn't just make her want to groan and roll her eyes and make snide, condescending, passive-aggressive little remarks. It made her want to break things. It made her want to tear heads off. It made her want to kill.

Through clenched teeth, she said, "Well, then I wish you all the joy in the world, coz she was all but salivating all over you." Without waiting for a reply, she headed for the front door.

"You're cute when you're jealous."

She stopped dead in her tracks halfway out and whirled around, snarling at him. " _Don't make fun of me!_ "

"Why not?" he said, smirking, watching her with undisguised amusement. "You make a pretty easy target like this."

For the first time, she got why everyone hated his guts so much. Before she knew what she was doing, she was right in front of him. Her hand flew up as she meant to backhand him, but he caught her wrist, grabbed the other one, spun her around, and crushed her to himself in an iron grip.

" _Let go of me!_ "

"Why?" he said directly into her ear, his lips lightly brushing her skin. "So you can bitch-slap me? I don't think so. Why don't you calm down before you hurt yourself, honey?"

She struggled, but he was stronger despite her new-born boost. Damn it. Couldn't she do _anything_ right? This was so infuriating! "Let me _go!_ "

"You know what?" he said in the most irritatingly conversational tone she'd ever heard. "You should take a deep breath, stop your hysterics, and then we can talk about what's really got your panties in a twist, hm? What do you say?"

That caught her off-guard. She stopped fighting him. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

"No? So you didn't drag me over here for a very touching display of possessiveness? You didn't secretly hope that I wasn't attracted to Maria anymore?"

After voicing an incoherent sound of disdain, she said, "She tried to kill you! She doesn't care about you at all!"

"Nobody's perfect. Does the fact that you have a pretty titanic – not to mention flattering –crush on me make you the better choice? I'm not sure." He let her go so suddenly, she almost fell on her butt.

Instead, she swirled around and jabbed a finger at him, almost into his eye. "I do _not_ have a crush on you! _You are an arrogant, smug, self-satisfied little jerk!_ "

His good friend, The Smirk, was back. "Who you have a crush on."

She threw up her hands, staring at him with incredulity. How dare he? _How dare he?_ The sheer insolence! "I _don't_."

"Then you don't mind if I rekindle my relationship with Maria? Because she's more than game, if you know what I mean." The look he gave her was one of pure innocence. "I'm pretty sure you do. You gave birth to a demonic baby, after all, and that didn't descend from the heavens, accompanied by an angelic choir."

"You know what? _You can do whatever the eff you like!_ " she all but shouted at him, wanting to chew through his throat, wanting to slap him punch him rip his head off goddamn holy crow this was _maddening!_

"Then why are you so angry?" he said – calm, quiet, and exasperatingly composed.

She glared at him, tried to ignore the strange beauty of the scars criss-crossing his face, tried to not notice how she was able to focus on nothing but how heavenly his skin smelled to her. After shaking her head at herself, she snapped, "I'm mad because you are _insufferable!_ I'm mad because you're being nasty on purpose just to rile me up! I'm mad because I'm jumping the bandwagon and starting to _hate_ you! I'm mad because-"

The rest of the sentence was lost when he grabbed her by the sides of her face and crushed his lips against hers.

That…that…all her glorious, alive, self-righteous fury evaporated. She dropped her arms. She stopped _breathing_.

Backing off a little, he said, "That worked better than I thought."

"I…okay," she said dully, blinking. "I…you're not…"

"Mind-doping you? Nope. This is all you, darling." He grinned at her. "Little peck on the mouth, and she's already speechless. Makes me wonder about all the rest."

To be frank, it made her wonder, too. He was an annoying snot and he was provoking her deliberately and he was a self-enamoured jerk and…and…and she couldn't care any less if she tried. Unable (unwilling) to help herself, she mirrored his expression, said, "Please stop talking," buried her hard fingers in his soft hair, and stood on the tip of her toes. Very slowly, she brushed her lips against his – once, twice, three times. The fourth time, she lingered. He kissed her back, opened his mouth, and ran the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, making her shudder.

She opened her mouth drank him in put an arm around his neck slid one hand down his flat taut stomach pressed her body against his as hard as she could helped him pull her blouse over her head and toss it aside. She relished the stars she was seeing behind her closed eyelids. She…oh God, how warm he was, how warm and strong and alive – how hungry. Like she was hungry. He flinched in pain as she brusquely raked her fingernails across his back. She gasped as he returned the favour. It hurt him and it hurt her, but it was good, so good, so unbelievably, darkly, breathlessly _good_ nothing could compare this was like feeding like killing like being alive _like being alive_.

He put his arms around her skinny waist and crushed her to himself.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She was tense, coiled, wired, taut, muscles straining throat burning desire want _need_ heat oh it had been too long never like this _never like this_ inhuman unbreakable frantic greedy violent. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, bit him savoured the sharp intake of breath that this elicited hands in his hair tongue in her mouth oh this was so good she wanted to crawl on his lap push him down devour him drink his health get closer so much closer no more distance no more only skin biting sucking grinding pushing arching tearing squeezing scratching. Ripping off his clothes as quickly as possible – not fast enough not close enough too slow clumsy _not_ _enough_ – she pushed him down buried him under herself. This was good, so good so amazing good overwhelming wonderful painful furious so much skin so much closeness so much no room no thinking no confusion guilt despair no being undead a thing a monster, only instinct desire want need craving longing yearning so much so close so terse so hard so wired sweet and painful honeyed agony clarity everything more now now now.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two**

 **1** **"You told me that not all of these half-breeds are as powerful as Re-name-me,"** Leah said, right out the gate, as Demetri joined her in the kitchen.

From the certified sheepish expression on his face, she could tell that he wanted to talk about Charlie, and that was the last thing _she_ wanted to talk about. Therefore, while Creepula and Bell-Bell were working out their relationship problems or whatever next door, and Maria was talking strategy with her creepy underlings, Leah had absconded to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. Yeah, this was basically theft, but they were here to save the Earth, Captain Planet-style, and she was the only one who needed this kind of sustenance, anyway, so it shouldn't make too much of a dent in the house owners' pocket. No, didn't make it better. Wrong was wrong, no matter what. Thing was, a strict moral compass only ever worked in theory. Real life had a tendency to get in the way of personal philosophy, and then some. Sometimes, the world needed rescuing from unholy demon-spawn. Some fallout in the form of pinched coffee was to be expected. It was a transgression Leah could live with. Hell, if she couldn't live with something this trivial, how was she supposed to ever sleep again, having several deaths on her conscience? Nothing was ever as easy as it seemed.

Well, bummer for her.

"That's correct," he said, blissfully unaware of her internal brooding, and took a seat at the round, white, metal kitchen table. It had those curved, ornamented legs that Leah usually associated with the Roaring Twenties. Maybe it even was that old. This was obviously a very _pricey_ humble abode.

"How many of these things _are_ there?" she said, rinsing the coffee-maker's glass carafe and then pouring water into the machine. "When me met, you told me most vampires shoot blanks." Despite herself, she had to snigger. "Which makes for a weird first date conversation, but at least I know you're honest." She cast a look over her shoulder and saw that he was smiling. The coffee started brewing. She leaned backwards against the kitchen counter, grasping its smooth, cool edges with both hands.

"There aren't many," he said, and she saw that he was remembering to blink every few seconds, which had to be purely for her benefit. "I _was_ telling you the truth: most of us can't reproduce. It's estimated that the number of male vampires who can impregnate a human woman is about one in a thousand."

She arched her eyebrows. "Christ, how many of you _are_ there? Is there a census?"

"Kind of, yes," he said, smirking a little. It didn't look at all malicious and therefore not even in the same ballpark as Jasper's douche-baggery – at least she thought so. Then again, she wasn't the most objective of people; she never had been. "We have people positioned all over the globe, keeping an eye on the vampire population, preventing most of them from attempting to turn others. Usually, the deliberation alone falls under the rule of secrecy umbrella. In any case, there can't be too many of us smugly strutting about, as I'm sure you'll agree."

"Oh, I agree, all right," she said, and scratched her forehead. "Vampire population control. Who'd a thunk it." She chewed on the inside of her cheek and then frowned. "Wait, _attempting_ to turn?"

"It's difficult. Oftentimes, the vampire trying to turn a human will end up killing him or her. There has been the exception of people using syringes to infect humans, but the odds of that working are slim to none."

"Worked with Bell-Bell."

He shrugged. "It seems like Edward was like the perfect storm of improbable catastrophe: powerful gift, the ability to reproduce biologically , and lucking out when turning his wife via proxy."

"Artificial insemination because he couldn't get it up." It was out before she knew it. For two seconds, she stared at him out of huge eyes, before she burst out in very silly, very childish giggles. She slapped her hands to her face. "Oh, God, I'm sorry! Forget I said that! _It never happened!_ "

"Oh, it happened," he said, snickering. "Here we are, like teenagers, and I'm a thousand years old. It's patently ridiculous."

"Well, you are entitled to _some_ fun, now and again," she said, sighed, and mopped at her eyes. "Okay, then. Back to the doom and gloom. Perhaps you can explain something to me: if there are so few vampires that can knock up a gal, and even if they do, the spawn is usually not even close to being as Cthulhu-esque as our beloved Borg Queen…" She trailed off and shrugged. "Why do you guys hunt them down like you do? I mean, I get why your boss, Blond Prissy Dude, hates wolves – our kind or not, it doesn't matter. Wolf is wolf, and he hates us. I saw the scar. I get it. It's not too hard to put two and two together. But what is it about the demon-spawn that sets you people off so bad? There aren't many around, and most are – from what I gather – less of a menace than our good pal Creepula." She shook her head, shrugged again. "It doesn't make any sense to me."

About half a minute or so went by in silence. He just looked at her with the strangest expression on his face. What was this? Sadness? Regret? Something in the general vicinity, at least. From outside the window came the high-pitched but pleasant trill of some small bird – a warbler, maybe. Leah had never been much of an ornithologist, but she enjoyed listening to the birds singing.

She poured herself a mug of freshly-brewed, heavenly-scented coffee, joined him at the table, and told herself to stop it with the nonsensical internal ramblings. Christ on rollerblades. "If you don't want to talk about it," she said. Nursing the cup, she let the wonderfully fragrant steam rise up to her face and breathed it deeply. Coffee was awesome. "Then we don't talk about it. I really don't want to be nosy."

"It's okay," he said, briefly glancing down at his hands, which he'd placed flatly on the table-top, before meeting her eyes again. He was smiling wryly. "It's just a little personal."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"It's _fine_. You're involved in this; you have the right to ask questions and get some real answers." He waited, but so did she. "All right. You see, it's been hundreds of years, but it still feels like it just happened. Our memories don't fade much over the years, no matter how much time goes by. Joyous ones last forever, but so does pain."

"That sounds awful," she said, cradling her mug as if that could keep away the horror. Still, an unpleasant shiver slithered down her spine.

He shrugged. "It's life."

Taking in his almost uncanny-valley symmetrical features, the pasty skin that had once definitely been darker, the nearly black eyes that signalled his physical need for human blood, she felt as if her innards were being crushed by a Terminator's hand. "Not by choice."

"We didn't choose to be born, either, but it happened, anyway," he said, that little dry smile curving up the corners of his mouth again. "You didn't choose to be a wolf. I don't hear you complaining."

She almost told him that she believed his lot was so much worse, that she was still human most of the time and not condemned to a sleepless, basically immortal, and strictly parasitic existence, but then she thought better of it. He didn't want to feel sorry for himself. It wasn't her place to force pity on someone who was actively rejecting it. This wasn't about her. Her sympathy and understanding weren't important enough to override the affected party's obvious wish for silence.

Instead, she said, "No, I don't. You're right. But back to the topic at hand: you don't have to tell me about that if it hurts too much."

After just looking at her in contemplative silence for another few seconds, he said, "It was the late Middle Ages. We thought that we had a pretty good handle on the supernatural world: the Romanian reign of terror was over and the humans they'd enslaved had been liberated. The Egyptians were in check. The Chinese were locked in something of a cold war with us, but they didn't want to upset the status quo, and neither did we. The Russians were mostly gone after a few bloody skirmishes, and licking their wounds. We were basically at peace – the entire vampire world as we knew it. Our secret was safe and the world kept turning, oblivious."

"It's always when you least expect it, isn't it? When life decides to screw with you?" she said, hating the bitter undertone that had crept into her voice. This was stupid. He didn't want to feel sorry for himself, so she was doing it in his stead? Pathetic. She told herself to cut it out.

"It is," he said, less bitter than wistful, making Leah wonder what was worse. Bitterness implied anger, which in her book was much less difficult to bear than sadness. "I'll spare you the gory details, but due to a host of unfortunate events, a member of our coven decided to rescue a human woman who was about to be killed. He was in love with her, of course, and she with him." He shrugged. "The rest is history, as the idiom goes."

After drinking some more of her coffee, she returned the shrug, and said, "Okay…so one of your pals knocked up a lady, a demon-baby was born…then what? And before you say it, yes, I know people you cared about died, and I'm really sorry about that, but I still don't know why your leaders have issued the vampire equivalent of a hit on any and all demon-babies."

"For the same reason all governments pass laws and go to war," he said, giving her an unreadable look. "The dhampir infected someone important."

* * *

 **2** **"Imagine what would happen if they found a way to cure Irina," Jasper said** , as he pulled his shirt back over his head again and started sorting out his dishevelled hair.

Bella, already completely dressed and just watching him move whilst she herself sat on the big couch, creased her forehead. "Excuse me?"

The last two hours had been the best she'd had ever since she'd fed on those campers, before the fight at the Cullen house. Sure, that had only happened a few days ago, but it felt like an eternity had gone by in the interim. This right here had been so different than all the bloodless, sanitised, passion-free hours she'd spent with Edward. Well, she and Edward had had sex a few times during their honeymoon, and it had been good, but this… _wow_. There were no words – no words. Bella had not believed that she was even capable of anything resembling passion anymore. Now she knew better. Was this a way of retaining some humanity? Probably not, given the fact that Jasper didn't avoid it like the plague. Maybe, though, it could be for her; it could be a way for her to actually feel like she was a person, even if that was only in relation to someone else.

Okay, she knew for a fact that _that_ was nothing new. She'd only ever defined herself in relation to others, manipulating boys and looking down on girls. Twenty-twenty hindsight was both a gift and a curse, it turned out.

"Cure her compulsion to obey the half-breed," he said. "Imagine what an impact on the vampire world that would be, even if that only applies to her. She has no powers. She's definitely not immune. Still, there's some resistance in her, because she helped Leah contact Demetri. It's impressive. They'll want to exploit that. Maybe they can find a way to break the control any dhampir has on a regular vampire or human."

Her frown steeped. "Why do you think they – and I presume you mean the Volturi – are trying to find a cure for this?"

Casually, he dropped himself on the couch to her right and put an arm around her. "Well, for one, it makes sense, them being the vampire government and all. Also, why do _you_ think Caius didn't kill Irina on the spot? For someone who's been exposed to that mind-warping little pest, she was remarkably fine."

"So are you."

He shook his head. "I'm immune. There's no infection. That doesn't count." Some of the doubt she had must be expressed on her face, because he added, "It's not like an actual sickness, the way humans have them. I don't think so, at least. It's more like a mental power that seeps into your brain and takes up shop. Still, it makes sense to assume that if one person out of all that have ever been corrupted by a half-breed shows some resistance, then that is worth exploring."

"Even if they do find a cure and it works for more people apart from Irina, it wouldn't be applicable to our situation. We're acting _today_. If they knew anything that might reverse the process, they would undoubtedly call Demetri," she said, straight-faced, feeling a little heavy. Her thoughts lingered on her dad. Poor Charlie. He did _not_ deserve any of this. She wondered if he might be thinking of her right now, and what. What did he believe had happened to his daughter? Could he even still consider her that after all he'd witnessed? There was no knowing without asking him. Bella could only conjecture, and her predictions had a tendency of missing the mark by a thousand miles. "So my guess is that none of that, if it's actually happening, will do us any good."

"Probably not, no, but in the future, perhaps. Maybe we could walk the Earth, killing half-vampire abominations as we go, freeing the enslaves masses," he said, very clearly over-the-top on purpose, and placed a little kiss on her lips. "It's not quite that dramatic. From what I gather, your little bundle of joy is particularly nasty, as far as dhampirs go. There shouldn't be that many, anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"If there were, humans would've found out by now. Those things aren't exactly inconspicuous, and vampires aren't exactly renowned for their innate self-control."

That made sense. "Oh. That."

"Yes, oh, that," he said, grinning, and gave her chin a little pinch. "To be perfectly candid with you, darling, I believe you're absolutely right. I don't think it's gonna amount to anything useful – not useful to us. Even if any kind of experiment _should_ yield a result, it won't add a solution to our little predicament."

"Yes. Like I said." She studied his face for a few seconds before deciding that he was up to something. This was a good thing, right? Getting to know someone well enough to be able to tell from their expression that they were up to no good? She couldn't quite decide. "What are you getting at?"

Surprisingly, he went serious. Solemnly looking down at her, he said, "Bella, you know that I'm as unapologetic about my nature and my proclivities as a person can be, but I swear I'm not being a bastard when I tell you this: this thing with Charlie…to put it colloquially, it ain't gonna end well." He gave her the opportunity to reply, but she remained silent, mostly because she had no idea what to say to that assessment. "I honestly don't want to depress you. It's just that, well" – He shrugged – "looking at the situation and then taking your father's personality into account, I don't think he's gonna make it out of this pickle alive."

Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. "They won't kill him. They need him as a bargaining chip."

"He'll be right in the eye of the storm," he said, very obviously unconvinced.

"If something happens to him, I'll turn him. I won't let him die. I don't _want_ him to die."

There was a subtle change in his expression that she couldn't quite classify. He shifted his weight so he could look at her properly, pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and raised her face. "What if he doesn't want to be turned?"

"It was your idea!"

He just kept his eyes trained on her. "That has nothing to do with what _he_ might want. It also doesn't answer my question."

She shrugged jerkily. "Once I have turned him, he'll see that it was for the best."

The corners of his mouth were twitching slightly. There was a spark in his red, utterly inhuman eyes. "Think back on your own transformation, sweetheart. How well do you remember it?"

Pain flared up deep in her throat. Memories flashed before her mind's eye: skin sloughing off, tongue swelling and cracking, intestines dissolving, bones breaking. All the muscles tightened in her face. For a couple of seconds, she closed her eyes. When she faced him again, she said, "With perfect clarity," her voice hardly above a whisper.

"Now, are you willing to put him through the exact same torment?"

"It's _worth_ it," she said, obstinate. It was. It _had_ to be. What sense would any of this make – the pain the confusion the frustration the thirst the sin the loss – if it wasn't worth it? Yes, she remembered thinking, _knowing_ that it wasn't worth it, that nothing ever could be, but that was in the past. She wasn't human anymore. She wasn't even Bella anymore. Still, she was fine. Once you became a soulless monster, it seemed, actually being monstrous was less horrible than the prospect of simply ceasing to exist.

To her surprise, he said, "I don't know," sounding both contemplative and melancholy. "I try to make the best of it, you know, be the best undead abomination I can be. What's the use in being an unholy, godforsaken _thing_ if I can't enjoy what benefits this brings? I'm not human anymore. Why even try to ape them? We can't, and it doesn't work. Might as well roll with it, as the idiom goes." He chuckled dryly. "But that doesn't mean I always love what I've become. I was never a particularly compassionate guy, but I was more…well, human. You were, too. We all were."

Finally, the penny dropped. She wished she could have a physical reaction like a knotting stomach or a chill that went down her spine – something. There was nothing, though. There was nothing to physically manifest what was going on in her mind. Somehow, that was even worse than recalling her death in HD. "You think the pain and the fact that the memory never, ever dulls drives us insane, that it makes us psychotic."

"It'd mess anyone up, wouldn't it? You are unmade and reformed. You skin melts off. You innards puree. You are forced to eat your own teeth and tongue and gums right before you vomit it all up again, even though it can't go anywhere because your lips are welded shut and your nostrils are clogged." He snickered now, and there was a certain sick desperation to it that made her want to be the one able to provide him some relief through sleep. "Then, there's getting used to being a vampire: the blindness, the deafness, the disorientation, the thirst, that awful sensation of being trapped inside a fortress – all of it. It's a never-ending horror, because it never goes away. Why should we try to be good? I'm not even joking; I think there really is no sense in conforming to conventional standards of goodness. We got to get something out of all this misery, and that's what I do. That's what I think you should do, too."

"I have, haven't I?" Several objections to his little speech popped up in her mind, such as the living (undead?) proof of vampiric decency that was Demetri, but she chose not to voice them. It wasn't as if she didn't know where he was coming from, after all. She took his hand – his slender yet strong, beautiful hand – and raised it to her lips, kissing it softly. "I have spent a lot of time struggling with the idea that I'm nothing but a monster, and then you tell me that I should revel in it, and I have. Being monstrous feels wonderful. It makes me feel alive." She gave his hand a squeeze and touched the side of his face with her other one. "That doesn't make it right, though."

"Of course it doesn't," he said, making a face at her as if she'd said something particularly obvious. "Just like your insisting to turn Charlie isn't right any way you spin it. Yes, I know it was my idea. I just said that because it's either turning him or killing him. Doesn't mean it's a miracle cure, though."

A little taken aback, she straightened her posture and pulled her hands back. "I'll do it because I want him to live. That's love."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is it? Sounds an awful lot like pure selfishness to me." Again, her expression must have given away her emotional reaction, because he took her hands, smiled with something akin to kind-heartedness, and said, "It's not an admonition, Bella. I don't care how selfish you are. I don't care how shallow you are. I like you; by now you should know that I do. I'm not projecting and I'm not judging. Be who you are. Be a monster. You don't answer to anyone but yourself anymore."

Unwittingly, she thought about her first day as a functioning vampire. She'd run into the woods and killed those campers. Their screams had faded into nothing as she'd torn them limb from limb. The memory should make her shudder, but all it did was remind her of her words to Jacob, her good friend, the person who'd taken her hand and led her through the darkness:

 _You should kill me. You…you're not human. You're one of those things that kill things like me. You're meant to kill me, Jacob. You_ hate _me._

His answer had been devastating, even if back then, she'd lacked the vocabulary to describe it this way: _I wish I could, but that ship has sailed. It doesn't matter anymore. I couldn't kill you, even if I wanted to_.

"I _am_ a monster," she said slowly, "but that doesn't mean that I stopped caring about anyone who isn't me."

"Some might argue that if you truly love someone, you'll let them go, but I say fuck it. Being a selfish monster means never having to say you're sorry." He stood up suddenly, pulling her with him, and hugged her closely around her skinny waist. "What do you say we end this little therapy session and go annoy our Dynamic Duo again? I'm pretty sure they're already getting withdrawal symptoms. Besides, our boy Demetri really needs to drink someone before the party gets started, or he might flip at the worst possible moment. He might be the universal role model for all things heroic, but even he isn't immune to starvation, bless his pure, undead heart. I don't know about you, but if that were the case, it'd annoy me to no end."

Grateful for his light-hearted tone and the topical distraction, she ran her fingers through his hair and smiled a little. "Whatever else might be said about this life, I'm really glad that you're a part of it."

"Why, thank you, ma'am," he said, smirking. Other people might find this obnoxious, but Bella thought that this lit up his whole (already beautiful) face. "I'm really glad that you're a part of mine, too."

"So," she said, putting her arms around his neck, "how long is this gonna last? When are you gonna throw me under the bus like you did with Alice?"

The look he gave her could only be described as mocking. "When you start taking advantage of an emotional vulnerability of mine and use that to manipulate me into believing some bullshit destiny. When you start policing my actions. When you start trying to mould me into something you want, instead of choosing to stay with me because you like _me_. When I find out that all you care about is willing a vision you've had of me into reality, consequences be damned. I don't exactly take kindly to being used as a pawn in somebody else's psychotic chess game."

"I know what you are," she said, "and I have no intention of changing anything about you. For the first time in my life, I am clear-headed enough to make informed decisions. I want to feel something. You make me feel like I never died – almost, at least, which is more than I thought was possible. I want to cling to that."

Again, he smirked. "So you're in this for you." When she nodded curtly, he did, too. "I can live with that."

"Good. It makes two of us, in any case," she said, raised her face, and kissed him.

* * *

 **3** **What Irina saw in that cell mocked every description.** She was a thousand years old. In all those centuries, she had seen many horrors and been through a good number of them, herself. There was no forgetting any of them – a heavy burden placed on every vampire's shoulders. The worst experience, apart from turning, had been watching Vasilii die. It was almost as bad as mourning the loss of her humanity, and that was only not as painful because vampirism always muddled what had come before. That, in itself, was a whole other flavour of horrible: most of what had once made a person human simply ceased to exist after the transformation, and the vampire in question could remember little of it. All that remained was an unshakeable, lingering sense of loss and sorrow. Her thoughts wandered to Lyubomir, as they so often did when she was despondent. Before her mind's eye, she saw his warm smile, the spark in his eyes, the sunshine in his hair, heard the sweet and light-hearted sound of his laughter. A little annoyed with herself, she shook these memories off. Now was not the time for this. But then again, when was it ever?

What she was seeing right now almost made her wish for the return of the false vision of the weeping, frightened little boy – almost. No, what she saw here was…desolate. No other word came to her mind. It was a young woman – short, emaciated, dirty. She was wearing something akin to a straightjacket, but fabric wasn't the only thing immobilising her arms. Thick chains were wrapped tightly around her frail body; they were probably made of the same material the door had been fashioned out of. Her ankles were shackled. Around her neck was a thick metal collar, chaining her to the wall. Her dark hair was a messy, knotted, wild mane that hung in front of her face in greasy clumps. She smelled like coagulated blood, rotted freesia blossoms, and burned sugar.

Irina stood backed against the door, not breathing, not moving, not blinking. For something that felt like an eternity, they just stared at each other. The woman's face was haggard and filthy, but as was the case with Renesmee, also very beautiful and eerily symmetric. Her eyes were huge and dark, her chapped lips plump and dark-red, her nose straight and expressive, the line of her jaw strong, her cheekbones pronounced. She wasn't as pale as a vampire, but still looked strangely white-washed, as if she would have had a darker complexion, had she been fully human.

From the other side of the door, Aro said, "What do you see?"

"A girl," Irina said quietly, leaning her head back against the cool metal (it must be freezing in order to feel cold to a vampire). She kept her eyes fixed on the chained-up dhampir, who watched her impassively. "Chained up. In pain."

"There is no pain," Aro said, sounding oddly chipper. "This is its influence on you, my dear. It's trying to convince you to break its chains. After all these years, it's still hell-bent on escaping. Impressive, isn't it? Admirable, even."

"Her chains," Irina said, pressed her lips together, and slowly shook her head. She balled her hands into fists. Her whole body was tense to the point of discomfort. "Her _misery_."

"Can you hear it talking to you?"

"No." If only she could look away! Part of her, however, knew that at least someone owed it to this pitiful creature to look at her and see her the way she truly was. "I can feel her, though, somehow, inside my head."

"Do you want to free it?"

Irina thought about what he'd told her this girl had done. She remembered the misery Renesmee had already spread, being little more than an infant. After biting her tongue, she said, "No." There was a flare of agony shooting through her skull, a sharp outcry, a terrible pressure crushing her with misery and outrage. She shut her eyes and pressed her lips together. Her whole body was trembling from the exertion of staying immobile.

"But you feel it trying to convince you to? Trying to force you to obey it?"

" _Yes_." Irina clasped her hands to her throat. It was burning. God, it was on _fire_. "Please, let me out of here. I need to get away from this place. _I need to get away from her! Please!_ " Her voice got loud and shrill and shaky, and there was nothing she could do about it. The clamouring in her head got louder, turning into a shrieking cacophony of despair and fury. It was as if invisible threads were attempting to coil around her arms and legs, trying to make her move toward the dhampir and not away. She spun around and slammed her fists against that strange, cold metal. " _Let me out! Let me out!_ " He opened the door and she stumbled outside, trembling, eyes shut, not breathing. Tripping over her own feet, she crashed down on the stone floor, her throat in flames and her head pounding. She barely registered how the door was slammed shut and locked tight again.

"It's all right," Aro said, and helped her up to her feet. He took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she'd face him. "Would you please look at me?" His warm and compassionate voice was enough to melt away most of the cold and the horror. It didn't even matter whether this was a genuine sentiment or merely an act.

She blinked and locked eyes with him, said, "She _is_ in pain. She's desperate and sad and lonely," and hugged her arms to herself.

There was a distinct look of cheerful enthralment on his face. "Could you hear words in your mind, or was it something-"

" _Sensations_ ," Irina cut in brusquely. "I could feel what she was feeling. She wanted so desperately for me to unlock those chains…so _desperately_." She sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered. Again, she bitterly missed the ability to weep. "But I _couldn't_. I had to think about what you told me, and about how helpless I felt when I was still around Renesmee…I…I couldn't."

"Not that helpless after all," he said, cracked a radiant smile, and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "And now…oh, I'm lost for words – truly lost for words. The thing in there affects you, powerfully at that, and yet, you did what no-one who was ever infected by it could do: you _resisted_. This is not only absolutely fascinating, my dear; it borders on a miracle. Do you know what else it means?" He waited for a reply that didn't come. The smile grew broader. There was a spark in his deeply red eyes. "What happened today changes everything."

* * *

 **4** **"They're gonna trick you! Why can't you see that?"** **Barbie spat at Jacob,** keeping her voice low enough so not to startle Nessie, who was watching TV.

Jacob and Barbie were war-rooming in the kitchen, whilst Charlie remained locked in one of the suite's smaller bedrooms with a shit-ton of pizza and soda to keep him company. It was safer this way. Not that he'd get very far if he tried to make a run for it, but better safe than sorry. Jacob didn't want anything to happen to him. Like it or not, he was still a Quileute wolf, and protecting humans was still kind-of-sort-of his job...

…in a sense.

He leaned his face into his hands and sighed heavily. When he raised his head again, he gave Barbie, who was appropriately standing by the huge fridge, a weary look. Then, he pulled a barstool and dropped himself on it, crossing his arms atop the stone kitchen island. It wasn't an act. It wasn't an attempt to annoy her. He really was that tired. He really was so, so goddamn _tired_ of all of this. "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, there, Barbs," he said, ignoring the obnoxious sneer plastered all over her stupid face. "You may not believe this, but I'm not a complete idiot. Of course they're gonna try to trick me. That's why we need some insurance."

She gave him a doubtful look. "And how do you plan to achieve that?"

"Well," he said, pressed his knuckles to his lips, and cleared his throat, "we may not be able to outsmart them, but we sure as hell outnumber them."

Her expressive eyebrows shot up. "Do you…the _humans_? But I thought-"

It took him all his willpower not to glance over his shoulder in the direction of the big living area. "They're just for insurance. As long as Bella and her little friends keep up their side of the bargain, no-one has to get hurt." His throat was dry, his head was aching dully, and his back was in painful knots. Still, he couldn't help but think of Nessie, only of Nessie, and how no-one and nothing mattered as much as she did – nothing ever could. "The one thing the Volturi want is secrecy, right? We can use that to our advantage, just to make sure that they'll play ball."

"Even if we force them not to double-cross us today, what then? What do we-" Rosalie interrupted herself abruptly. Her expression went from worried and exasperated to enthralled and loving. She was looking at a point behind Jacob.

He breathed in, and the fragrant, floral scent of Nessie's skin made his heart beat faster. Sighing inwardly, he turned around enough so he could look at her beautiful, sweet, serious-as-a-heart-attack little face.

"We make them our friends," Nessie said, looking from Barbie to Jacob and back again. "All of them…until no-one in the world would ever want to hurt me ever again."

* * *

 **5** **"This plan is** _ **damn**_ **risky," Leah said, pacing back and forth in the swanky living room** , trying hard not to be annoyed by all the still-as-stone vamps around her. Here they were again, standing around in a living room, fucking _talking_.

Yes, yes, this was very different not just because they were in Mexico, but because they were actually discussing strategy. Still, she had to admit that she was getting real sick of this entire deal – real sick indeed. As a kid, she'd always wanted to join Bilbo Baggins or, alternatively, Frodo Baggins on one of their epic quests. Here she was, on her own epic quest. Pity that it had so far turned out to be pretty crappy, all in all. But she figured that in the end, epic quests were never all they were cut out to be. On paper, it all seemed so much less mundane and so much more, well…magical. Huh. Turned out that even in the supernatural world, reality had a way of catching up to ya, no matter how much you might wish upon a clichéd star. How depressing.

"It's the only one we have," Demetri, who was standing in the doorframe leading to the entrance area, said, sounding more than a little unhappy.

Leah stopped pacing and scrutinised him. He looked positively terrible. "I never thought I'd say this, but you need to get something to eat _subito presto_. The last thing _we_ need is you flipping out due to insane thirst."

He tried to smile, but it looked like it was causing him physical pain. "I won't flip out; I promise. I'm fine."

"Give the man a medal," Jasper piped up, making Leah want to break something again. He and Bell-Bell were joined at the hip, now, it seemed, and sitting side by side on the big couch. "Back to the topic at hand, though: the plan isn't fireproof, no, but it's solid enough. General Demon-Spawn might be powerful, but she ain't exactly a tactical mastermind. Rosalie and Jacob aren't, either. They'll think we're gonna double-cross them, sure, but they won't see us coming. They have no idea what exactly we've got planned for them." He flashed a toothy grin at nobody in particular. "It'll be a thing of true and unadulterated beauty, my friends."

Biting her tongue, Leah quietly reminded herself of her promise to kill him once the current snafu had been dealt with properly. Being forced to work with him was bad enough. She'd be damned if she was going to allow him to saunter off into the sunset with his new girlfriend, like he deserved to live after everything that he'd done. Son of a bitch.

"There may be human loss, though," Maria, occupying an armchair, added with a smile. Nope, she and Leah were never going to be thick as thieves, that much was for sure. "Are you prepared to accept the possibility of" – Her smile morphed into a smirk – "collateral damage?"

"We'll try to minimise it," Demetri said, before Leah had a chance of flipping her off.

Good grief, she had just about _had_ it with these motherfucking vampires in this motherfucking house…even if not enough to keep herself from making pop-cultural references in her own head, apparently.

"However," Demetri continued, "it is imperative that we stop the dhampir as soon as possible. I'm sorry to say this" – he locked eyes with Leah again – "but we need to face facts, here: if we don't kill the child and eliminate the ones it has infected, its influence will spread exponentially. People will die. If we don't act quickly, the death-toll will number in the thousands. I don't need to tell you what will happen if we don't act at all."

For a few seconds, Leah just stared back at him, frozen, until she realised that everyone was waiting for her approval. She crossed her arms, chuckled, and shook her head. "Fine. I cave. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few, and all that. I get it." She took a deep, slightly tremulous breath. "Operation 'torches and pitchforks' is a go."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I'm currently facing my semester finals, so expect less irregular updates in August. Meanwhile, just a heads-up that I tweaked the backstory of someone a little, because the canon version was not to my liking. It's only a detail, but just be aware. Also, there's a Coldplay reference buried somewhere. Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. I hope you'll enjoy this outing, as well. The plot thickens! Stay tuned. **

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

 **1** **"So, I clearly passed your test,"** **Irina told Aro**. He'd led her away from that terrible corridor of 'precious rarities' and to something resembling a reading room from an eighteenth-century English country estate: beige and textured wallpaper, thick curtains covering non-windows (this was a subterraneous keep, after all, but nice of them to keep appearances), bookshelves made of dark and heavy wood, and comfortable, patterned sofas circling a round, little table. It was nice. Irina had tried to keep up as he led her there, but of course, she knew that such an effort was completely futile. At least she wasn't in one of those ghastly cells. One had to be grateful for the little things in life.

"Indeed, you did," he said, smiling warmly at her. He was sitting opposite her on the smaller sofa, whilst she occupied the larger one. Both were flanked by armchairs. All in all, it was a nice little corner of a terrifying stronghold. Well, at least they made an effort to live comfortably.

The same could not be said for the girl in the cage.

Just thinking about her made Irina feel like running again. Of course, she didn't even try. It wasn't as if she weren't a fighter – she wouldn't have survived for a millennium if she gave up easily – but she knew when to call it quits because resisting had zero chance of success. She was at the heart of the highest vampire authority. Butting heads on purpose with who was basically vampire Caesar wouldn't only be a waste of time, but criminally stupid, too.

She said, "I would like to know who she is."

His smile froze a little. "Hm," he made, rested his elbows on his thighs, and briefly ran his pale fingers through his dark and unruly mop of hair. "You do understand why we keep that thing… _her_ like that, don't you?"

"I do," she said, trying and failing to not think of the girl, of Renesmee, of Vasilii. "I also understand why you'd keep a live dhampir in your fortress, but…" Unsure of how to phrase her questions (so, so many questions!) in a proper manner, she trailed off.

His smile thawed again, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. If not anything else, the effort to seem non-threatening at least was admirable. There was no physical need to lounge around on couches, and yet, he did it to keep her mind at ease. Either this was a way of making her lower her guard, or a genuine attempt to be friendly – well, as friendly as suited his purpose, but who was keeping score? Certainly not Irina.

"You're wondering why we didn't pick one up that wasn't as threatening," he said, "or, alternatively, why we didn't simply replace it… _her_ after we found a less powerful specimen. We have, by the way. There are three in the Amazon that we have recently discovered and that will have to be taken care of soon – powerless when compared to Renesmee or to Fiora. They have influence over a limited amount of people, but they seem to have been around for over a century, and we've only now heard of their existence. There's not much of a hurry."

"Fiora," Irina echoed, savouring the name for a moment. It was lovely. The girl probably had been, as well, once upon centuries ago. She probably still could be.

"A common name during the time of its…of her birth," he said, his tone and expression wry and strangely wistful. "She is a product of the love between one of my people and a local human."

"Oh." Irina arched her expressive eyebrows. "You probably didn't even know what was happening until it was too late, did you?"

"We did not," he said, chuckled, and shook his head. "I have spent much time wondering what I could have done differently, how I could have prevented the disaster from striking. I asked myself if I was even still fit to be a leader."

"I felt her presence in my head so strongly," she said, inhaling a useless lungful of air that of course brought no relief. "I don't want to come across as condescending – really, I don't – but I think that you did all in your power. Sometimes, all we have is not enough."

"I agree with you, my dear," he said, his eyes trained on her. There was no visible hostility in them, but then again, he probably only ever let people see what he wanted them to see. "Pointing fingers is quite useless. Learning from mistakes has ever been the more prudent course of action. I like to believe that all of us have learned from our mistakes."

"But who _is_ she?" There was an undercurrent of annoyance in her voice. Naturally, she hadn't missed the fact that he'd elegantly evaded her question.

After just returning her look for a couple of seconds, he laughed – not a chuckle, not a giggle: laughter. It sounded merry and made him look oddly boyish. "This is something I admire about you, lovely Irina," he finally said. "You may be afraid for your life, but you don't let that hold you back. That's true courage."

Thinking back on her track record, she wasn't too sure about that.

When no reply came, he smiled again, and said, "I'd argue that who she is matters little in the grand scheme of things. After all, Renesmee's personality makes no difference and does not detract from the fact that she needs to be eliminated."

Maybe it could. "All right. Fair enough. Still, I would like to know why her…and yes, I know that I'm in no position to demand anything of you."

A subtle frown creased his otherwise smooth forehead, and he raised his hands in a typical now-hold-your-horses gesture. "Please, don't think that you are nothing but some lowly captive, dear. You're our guest, and now, you're my research assistant, as well." The smile returned. It was mesmerising. No matter what he said or did, she was pretty sure that he could charm most about anyone with that smile.

Despite herself, she relaxed. "So…I assume that she infected people who mattered to you."

A shadow crossed his face. Again, he chuckled dryly. Again, he briefly looked away from her. "It…she corrupted many. None of them could be saved, even though we tried. All of them had to be eliminated for the sake of everyone else, for the sake of the entire world." He locked eyes with her again. There was something pained in them, something haunted. "One of them was my sister."

* * *

 **2** **"I really don't get your current abstinence deal,"** **Leah told Demetri**. She no longer tried to hide her irritation. It was almost show-time, and the other leeches had already swarmed out to get themselves into position. "If you flip out-"

"I won't flip out," he told her emphatically. There was an undercurrent of irritation there, too.

Yeah, hunger made everyone cranky. They were both sitting by the kitchen table. She was eating a sandwich. "I'm sorry I'm pestering you like this, but it's a life and death situation out there, and-"

"I can't risk it."

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and frowned at him. "What's that when it's at home with its feet up?"

A few seconds ticked by as he just looked at her, his expression unreadable. At length, he said, "I can't help being a parasite, as you would say, but I don't kill my victims. None of the vampires from my coven do if we can help it. That, however, requires some planning – a lot of planning, actually. We don't have time for that now. I can either endure the discomfort until tomorrow, or I can go and murder a human being for food. It's one or the other, and I don't want to be forced to pick alternative two."

"Oh," she said, and blinked at him, feeling sheepish and stupid and nosy, only just refraining from asking what 'planning' even meant. Yes, given the circumstances, she was entitled to know why he was acting – or better not acting – like this, but still, pestering people until they gave up the desired information was one of her more famous Leah-isms. It was commonly known as 'bullying'. "I won't ask you about the specifics, but isn't there a way you could-"

" _No_. I told you, I need some time to prepare if I want to prevent killing the person, turning the person, or revealing the existence of vampires to them. I realise that you can't know how difficult and complicated vampire feeding can be when the vampire in question does his or her best not to be a murderer, but please don't make me go into detail, here."

There was a pang in her stomach. Man, she could sometimes be _so_ obnoxious. Christ on a cracker. "I won't."

He only nodded once in acknowledgment. "Suffice it to say that I don't want to add to the casualties any more than I already have." A tired little smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure you can sympathise."

Images of dead vampire kids – dead by her hands – popped up before her mind's eye, unbidden. She shuddered. Her stomach lurched. "Yeah," she said quietly, looking down at her hands. Ignoring the knot in her throat, she made herself look into his pitch-black eyes again. They made such an odd contrast to his pasty skin. "I suppose I'm off the menu, right? With my poison blood?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

Scratching her neck and feeling weirdly self-conscious, she shrugged. "I mean, before you conk out…but I'm no good to you, anyway. It was just a stupid idea. Forget about it."

"No," he said. "You're not poisonous to me. I just…"

For some reason, that made her snicker. "What, my blood tastes like McDonald's to a human's Four Seasons?"

He smiled again. "I'll ignore that, since it's decidedly not proper to talk about how a person's blood tastes. I was thinking more in the direction of how it would make both of us monumentally uncomfortable."

Okay. Yuppie Vamp had a bit of a point, there.

Still, she straightened up her posture and returned his look squarely. "Never mind that. If it works, do it. I already know your secret, and I'm pretty sure that you can't simply kill me by accident if you get carried away."

"You know what'll happen if I bite you," he said, clearly doubtful. "If we're lucky, there won't be any fighting, but we shouldn't count on that."

She shrugged. "Then don't bite me. I'll cut my wrist. If you can keep your fangs from popping out…"

"I'm sure there's a metaphor in there, somewhere," he said, smiling a little.

Despite the fact that her heart was pounding and her stomach was in knots, she had to giggle. "There he goes, a thousand-year-old, grown-ass man, turning an innocent remark into an innuendo. You're the literal millennial, aren't you, buddy-boy?" She sighed. "Seriously, though: can you do it, or not?"

He just kept scrutinising her with that half-amused, half-doubtful expression he was so fond of, until she almost couldn't take it anymore. What was going on with him? There clearly was something on his mind, something he didn't want – or couldn't – share with her. Yeah, well, whatever it was, it was probably need-to-know, and she was involved enough as it was. Besides, they may have gone through some pretty intense shit together, but they'd only known each other for a very short while, and he _was_ a vampire. She had a tendency to keep forgetting that, as strange as that notion might be. Maybe that was simply due to the fact that he'd been more kind and respectful to her during the past few days than her werewolf pals ever tried to be. The thought was at the same time depressing and comforting, even though that didn't make any sense.

But then again, when did her emotions ever make sense, anyway?

"I'm not a new-born but, as you so aptly put it, a grown-ass man. Since you're no vampire, let me put it this way for your convenience: I'm a lot better at controlling my physical responses than a new-born – like a thirty-year-old to a teenager," he said, smirking a little. "I can do it."

She blinked at him for two seconds and then guffawed. "You're on fire today, aren't you?" Maybe he was just trying to ease the tension and awkwardness. There was always that. If that was the case, Leah had to give him kudos. She'd never been particularly talented at lighting the mood. No, she'd always been way more apt at adding fuel to the fire. Well, everyone had a skill. "Okay, then. Right. If we're really gonna do this, then we better do it right away. We got places to go and people to trick. Also, I might end up changing my mind, because this is a little bit insane."

After just looking back at her for another long-ish moment, he rose to his feet in a flash, and stood by her chair a split second later. "As you wish," he said, and held out his hand. "Just remember that this was your idea."

"Ain't winning any prizes for smart ideas any time soon," she said, only half-joking, took the hand, and allowed him to help her up. "But what the hell, right? Like that song goes: if you never try, then you'll never know."

The smirk grew a littler broader, bordering on a grin. "Oh, there's definitely a metaphor somewhere in _there_."

* * *

 **3** **"Are the humans all in place?" Jacob asked Barbs** , who – he had to admit – had much more acute senses than he did. Somehow, this made him think of Bella, who'd spent three whole months learning how to see and hear and move, and who was still doomed to sensory collapse if she did not regularly drink blood from the vein of a living creature. Well, she'd wished for eternal life and youth and wealth, just as he'd wished to be connected to her forever, and Leah had always wished for excitement and adventure that would alleviate the boredom of everyday life. Hadn't they all gotten what they wished for? In a sense, at least? They should all have read the fine print. Too late for all that, now. Too late for all of them. There was no going back. There was no shoving the proverbial genie into the stupid goddamn bottle again.

"All where they should be." Barbie was holding Nessie, who was clinging to the leech as if her precious life depended on it.

Jacob grudgingly admitted to himself that today, it did. They were still in their suite, but soon, he'd have to leave to go talk to Bella. The odds of her not planning to double-cross her own daughter were slim to none, but Jacob and Barbie had it all figured out. With Charlie hostage and all the human lives at stake, there was no way that Bella or any of her posse would be able to outwit them. Everything was going to end well. He could feel it.

He could feel it. Of course he could.

"Then we've got nothing to worry about," he said, and gently caressed Nessie's rich, dark-brown locks. "It'll all be okay, my little darling. Sweetheart. It'll all be okay." Of course it would. It had to. There was no room left for failure.

* * *

 **4** **"We'll have to time it perfectly," Jasper said,** looking back and forth from Bella to Maria and back again – at the latter through the rear-view mirror. Just to confuse any attempts by Rosalie to locate them via their scent, they'd been driving around town, using this opportunity to scout out the area and – if any of Renesmee's party were watching – throw some dead herrings for good measure. "They'll be expecting a trap, yes, but they won't be able to anticipate what we've actually got planned for them. The moment we start, we have to act quickly." He paused, but no reply came. "We'll also have to accept the fact that there will be human casualties. This is pretty much unavoidable at this point, girls."

"As long as Demetri doesn't see a problem, I don't see a problem," Maria said, lazily uncrossing and crossing her legs, flashing a broad smile at Jasper.

Bella, who was riding shotgun, only rolled her eyes. She said, "They might kill my dad if we go through with our plan."

"They won't," Jasper said, and comradely patted her thigh. "They'd be losing their biggest advantage. They can't afford to."

"You're thinking like a general," Bella said flatly, as she looked out the window at the busy traffic and the pedestrians. It was raining lightly. "Renesmee is in charge, even if the tactical ideas aren't hers. If she loses control, if she panics, Charlie dies."

"I'm counting on that not happening," Jasper said. "If we start obsessing about every little thing that could possibly go wrong, we'll never get anything done."

"It'll work," Maria cut in from the backseat. "You'll see. My people are well-prepared, smart, and loyal. Everything will work out fine, Bella. Everything will work out just fine."

Bella just kept looking out the window in silence. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to be able to be afraid anymore.

* * *

 **5** **Looking into the smiling face of a man who'd once been forced to mercy-kill his own sister,** wife of his best friend, was harder to stomach than Irina would have thought. For a while, she just sat there, gawping at him, frozen. Finally, she forced herself to draw a breath so that she'd be able to say, "I'm sorry." Yes, it was trite. She still thought it was appropriate to voice the sentiment.

"Thank you, dear," he said, briefly looking down at his hands. When he locked eyes with her again, his expression was wistful. "You understand that I will stop at nothing to rid out world of the threat that not just the monster in my dungeon poses, but also that of all cursed half-breeds. I don't have a choice. My duty is to our people, and those creatures put everyone at risk, including the humans. Their weapons would be useless if they felt forced to worship the thing that is threatening them the most, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes." For a couple of seconds, she pressed her lips together. Then, she forced herself to relax as well as she was able to, and said, "Somehow, this does not bode altogether well for me, does it? I can't think of any scenario that includes a happy ending for me."

"Hm," he voiced, and chuckled. "You see, our reputation for ruthlessness and cruelty is well earned. We don't have many laws, but the ones we do have, we enforce mercilessly – for good reason. Vampires all over the world hate being told what to do, but they forget that what few rules there are exist for their own protection. We're an impulsive, aggressive, self-entitled species. We're stupid, too." At that, Irina snickered, but said nothing in reply. His smile broadened. "It is what it is. Many of us lose much of our intelligence alongside our humanity, which is a shame, but possibly nature's way of keeping us in check."

"Possibly," she echoed, hesitant, when he paused.

"It is my pet theory, in any case. What I was getting at, however, is this: our reputation is that of cold-hearted enforcers, and this reputation is both well-earned and unfair at the same time. You were corrupted by a very powerful dhampir, which is usually a death-sentence. Still, here you are, alive and well." He spread out his hands as if to underline his point.

"Because I serve a purpose."

"Because you serve a purpose, yes," he said, stood up, walked over deliberately slowly, and sat down again to her right. After carefully covering her right hand with his left, he added, "You're not immune to their powers, and yet, you have kept your individuality after direct contact with two of them. There is a reason for this, and if we could just find out what that reason is…" He trailed off and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Oh, darling girl, we might be able to change _everything_."

His tone of voice was so enthralled, so elated, it was very hard not to give into that. She assumed that this was his power getting the better of him…or maybe it was deliberate. After all, he was several thousand years old and hadn't made it to the position of emperor accidentally. It was probably smarter not to take anything at face value.

"Am I…" she said, and gathered her thoughts again. Damn quick vampire reactions getting the better of _her_. "Am I going to end up in a dungeon cell, unchained only in order to be vivisected over and over again?" Maybe it wasn't so smart to be this candid with him, but at this point, she didn't think that beating around the bush made any difference.

He just stared at her blankly for a moment before bursting out laughing. It took him half a minute to compose himself – whilst she just frowned at him, taken aback – before he said, "Oh, Irina. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be patronising – really, I don't. Nothing of the sort will happen to you. Believe me, I have no desire to see you hurt. Do you think it ever brings me joy to learn that one of us needed or needs to be destroyed? It doesn't. I want peace and prosperity for our people. No" – He squeezed her hand again – "you will not be harmed because there is no reason for it. You pose a threat to no-one. What I want from you is cooperation."

She had no idea how to feel about any of that. If she were to be completely honest, she didn't even feel like she was really there. "Of course."

"Good," he said, cracking a warm and sunny smile again that made – as corny as it sounded – the whole world fall away for a moment. It was, to put it bluntly, completely enthralling. "Because I have an idea that might just be the perfect solution to all of our problems."

* * *

 **6** **They'd gone up to the master bathroom at Leah's request.** She'd said that they might be occupying someone else's house and eating their frozen goods (well, she was, but those were details), but that didn't mean they had to be uncivilised. If she was going to drip blood anywhere, it would be tiles and not a carpet or the stairs. Also, there was a first-aid kit in the medicine cabinet. Practicality might not be her middle name, but she wasn't a complete idiot, either. Also, this wasn't her first rodeo. She'd been injured before. No matter how careful you were, it was always messy. Something always went wrong, or at least not quite the way you planned.

As they moved up the stairs, she mused whether she should make this her family motto: 'Something always goes wrong'. Huh. Was she starting to get all whiny and emo like Jacob, now? Well, that was as necessary and useful as a hole in the head.

"I don't know about you, but I for one immediately regret this decision," she said, as they both stood face to face in the bathtub. This had got to be the world's lamest improv theatre sketch. She was holding a razorblade in her right hand.

He returned her look gravely and ignored the failed attempt at humour. "You don't have to do this."

"I kind of think I do," she said, and sighed. "You know, little while ago, things were sort of screwed, but pretty straight forward. Now, look at this mess: I'm buddy-ing it up with a thousand-year-old vampire with a British accent and annoyingly good manners. If that wasn't bad enough, I'm also plotting to capture and possibly kill a former pack member and current cousin."

"I could be ruder, should that put your mind at ease."

She snorted wry laughter. "You? Not even if your life depended on it, pal. I mean, look at you: you can't even be rude without politely and selflessly offering it, first."

With a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he said, "I know that coming from a vampire, this evokes a number of unfortunate implications, but I feel compelled to state that you can't help what you are."

"Oh, man; you're quite something," she said, snickering, shaking her head. "Before we do this: do you know how long the effect of your, uh…your bite will last? I don't want to risk being forced to work for Jacob again."

The smile vanished. He shrugged and crossed his arms. "To tell you the truth, I don't know for sure. If you were a werewolf of the variety I am familiar with, then you should be good for another few days."

"But I'm not a garden-variety werewolf."

He arched one of his thin eyebrows. "Indeed. I think it's safe to say that you aren't a garden-variety anything."

Okay, that was…that was…a very nice thing to say, actually. Dang, this guy really went out of his way to be pleasant, didn't he?

"Jeez," she said, scratched her neck with her free hand, and discreetly cleared her throat, "why can't all leech…I mean vampires be as decent as you?"

"A question I ask myself on a daily basis," he said, and sighed theatrically.

She squinted at him and pulled up one corner of her mouth in a crooked smirk. "It jokes. Again. Don't think I don't see what you're doing. You're trying to make me not terrified of getting blood drained out of me."

"If you handled the venom, you will hardly notice some blood-loss," he said, serious again. "At least not with your capacity for rapid healing."

"So, uh," she said, and tried swallowing down the knot in her throat, "is it gonna taste real horrible?"

"Do you really want an answer to that?" He waited, but she only nodded curtly. "Well, it's…not the same as a human's blood, of course, but it isn't as…uhm, unpleasant as it would be if you were in your werewolf form."

"Okay," she said, her voice sounding annoyingly hollow in her own ears. "Okay. So it's basically a beggars-can't-be-choosers scenario. Yeah. I can deal with that. It's good to know that my blood isn't bacon-flavoured goodness like Bell-Bell's once was. I'm not really a fan of being reduced to a body-part." But she was a fan of rambling when anxious or uncomfortable, wasn't she? Good gravy. Yes, it was a little bit pathetic, but it helped.

Maybe she was hallucinating, but the look he gave her seemed pretty sympathetic.

"Shall we do this?" he said.

"Right. Get it all over with. I agree. Good point." She took a deep breath, held up her left wrist, said, "No time like the present, I guess," brought the blade to her skin, and sliced it open with a quick move. It stung, sure, but she'd had worse. Her body trying to fight off the vampire venom came to mind. She shuddered. Blood spurted from the open vein into the white bathtub. It was a little nauseating, but nothing she couldn't handle. "Don't you dare try to kill me."

"I'll do my best," he said quietly, and then he was right in front of her, grabbing her wrist, pressing his lips against the bleeding gash in her skin.

The weirdest thing was, she wasn't entirely sure if he was kidding.

* * *

 **7** **The sun was starting to set. As the sky was overcast, it was already pretty dark** , but the lights along the promenade and coming from the city illuminated the beach pretty well. As Jacob leaned against the balustrade and looked out at the grey waters without paying much attention to it, he breathed in the salt-sea heavy, humid air in order to scan it for vampire stink. For basically the first time in his life, he'd arrived too early to a date – ha fucking ha.

This had to be a new low, right? He was putting a bunch of human lives at risk to stop vampire Bella and her Volturi buddies (not to mention a member of his own family) from double-crossing him, his imprintee, and the bitchiest mean girl in the history of forever. Great. Just great. Still, he didn't have a choice. Bella and Leah didn't leave him any _choice_. Why couldn't they just leave Nessie alone? Yeah, sure, she had powers that might…well, come across as a little unsettling to those who didn't know her. Nessie wasn't a threat to anyone, though. She was just a little girl, for crying out loud, who wanted to be loved and protected. What the hell was so wrong with that? Why did all those jerks insist on persecuting her as if she were a monster of some sort?

Unbidden, images popped up before his mind's eye: the hotel patrons stopping dead in their tracks, vomiting and peeing all over themselves, their eyes completely white. Nessie only had to issue a single vocal command, and all within earshot were immediately devoted to her. They'd become her collective, and they'd do what she told them to regardless of how awful it might be. They'd kill themselves and each other for her.

Annoyed at himself, he shook his head and leaned his face into his hands for a moment. Nessie's powers weren't relevant right now. He didn't even get what the big deal was. No-one made a huge fuss about Creepula, and he was a super-powered and murderous psychopath. Little Nessie was a precious, sweet and beautiful princess. She was _good_. The only explanation he had for the Volturi coming after the poor kid was that they wanted to enlist her for their evil army. That just had to be it. There was no other plausible explanation.

Well, he was not going to let them get their undead hands on her. He was never going to let anyone take her away from him. It didn't even matter anymore if he was still the Jacob that he used to be. It didn't matter that he had once been desperately in love with Bella Swan. No, all that mattered anymore was Nessie. He would always keep her safe and loved, and if that meant killing her mother who was unable to _see_ , then so be it.

That was when he smelled it: mixed in the scents of ocean and sand and wood and street and people was the flowery, sickly-sweet stench of a very specific vampire.

"Hello, Jake. I'm glad you could make it."

Forcing himself to stay cool and move slowly, he turned around, his hands balled into fists. "Hey, Bells."

She was wearing a dark-red blouse and black pants. Her dark-brown hair was swaying gently in the breeze. It was still hard to look at that perfectly symmetrical face of hers. This wasn't his Bella anymore. He'd helped her learn to hear and see again for three months, yes, and he'd still felt some of his love for her, who he'd shortly dubbed the dead girl upstairs. That was all gone now. Bella was _gone_. This wasn't Bella. This was a psychopathic, blood-sucking, undead parasite. Bella was never going to stop being the dead girl upstairs. She was the past. Nessie was the future. If Bella did not cooperate, then her number was up. That was just the way things were now.

"So," she said, curving up the corners of her plump mouth in a really dishonest-looking smile. That didn't mean anything, though. All her smiles looked like that these days. "Can we talk? Really talk, like we used to?"

"When we were friends, you mean," he said, crossing his arms, squinting at her.

A group of young women went by, laughing and chatting. Bella briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ugh, vampires were so goddamn creepy. "We can still be friends, Jake," she said, looking at him again, wearing that weird, dead smile on her alien face. "I don't want anyone else to get hurt, and I'm here to make sure we all get out of this alive."

Alive, huh? What a colossal fucking joke that was! "Even if I believed you," he said, breathing in deeply and not detecting any other leeches close by, "you can't guarantee that your little buddies won't try something stupid. I know that they want my Nessie all to themselves, but they can't have her. Nobody can have her."

A little frown creased her smooth, pasty forehead. "Jake…"

"But I have taken measures that'll guarantee you won't hurt my Nessie, that you can't hurt my Nessie." He sneered at her. "Just FYI."

Looking utterly unsurprised and unfazed, she tilted her head slightly to the side as she watched him without blinking even once. "I wouldn't expect any less of you," she said, and motioned along the promenade with a little wave of her right hand. "Shall we take a little walk? We can talk things over calmly, like the civilised people that we are. What do you think?"

"Okay." Slowly, they set into motion. "So, what do your friends from the government of undead freaks propose? That is, if you're even proposing anything except our unconditional surrender, or something stupid like that."

Thankfully, she kept a respectful distance as they strolled along. "Jake, please, that is not at all what anybody wants. The Volturi aren't murderers, you see, and Renesmee… _Nessie_ is my daughter. She's the only daughter, the only child I will ever have. I want her safe. I want my father safe." A little pause that was a lot awkward ensued. At length, she said, "However, you'll have to admit that she is a dangerous child, that she-"

"She's _not dangerous, god damn it!_ " A few passers-by gave them weirded out looks, but left them alone. He was pretty sure that not many people were out to start a fight with random strangers, especially not guys as big as he was. Still, it couldn't hurt to keep a lid on his outrage. It wouldn't help if someone were to call the cops on him. Not that they'd be able to actually arrest him or whatever, but still. Every new human involved was a wild card. He took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself to unclench his fists. "She's just frightened. After what happened at the Cullen house, can you blame her? She's a child, for crying out loud!"

"Yes." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants as if she were cold. This was probably an attempt to appear more human. Cute. Useless, though. "I'm just gonna be honest with you: the Volturi want to get her away from big crowds, at least for the moment…you know, until we know how strong her powers will get. It's a matter of public safety, just like the more powerful vampires are told to keep away from humans in general."

This actually made sense, especially given what he'd witnessed and Bella hadn't, but…but…inwardly, he sighed. Nessie wanted more friends. She wanted everyone to be her friend. No, she would never agree to go somewhere secluded, somewhere where she wasn't surrounded by droves and droves of friends who loved (worshipped) her.

"I don't think that'll be possible," he said, glancing sideways at her. That was putting it mildly. It wasn't possible. It would never be possible. End of story.

She was the picture of calmness, wasn't she? Was she even capable of being nervous or afraid? This was eerie, and not in a good way. "She wants an army, doesn't she? An army of blindly devoted acolytes – of zombies."

He made a face. "Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Bella, she-"

"It's okay. I understand that you can't say anything bad about her, that you can't even think anything bad about her at this point."

"Here's my suggestion," he said, choosing not to think about how much her words stung. Didn't quite work, unfortunately. "You take your little band of misfits and get the hell out of here as soon as you can, meaning right now. We stay here and keep eliminating dangers for Nessie. No-one has to die. It'll be all right. You won't even notice that anything's changed. I know that your friends are big on the status quo, and we'll keep that for you. Just get the hell away from here, and stay the hell away from my girl. Simple as that."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her raising at least one of her eyebrows at that. "You know we can't do that."

"Oh, yes, you can," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Now was the time to play his trump card. "If you don't, all the humans at the Grand Hotel are gonna commit mass suicide tonight. There's no middle ground. We won't negotiate. Leave or be responsible for the consequences."

She walked on calmly, her hands still in her pockets. "That would be a tragedy, as would be the loss of Charlie. But if you choose to go through with this plan, you'll have signed your own death sentence – Renesmee's too."

"No. They can't get to her. Besides, they can't risk it. They'd be exposed. Barb…I mean, Rosalie will see to that. It would start a war that might just mean the end of the vampire world as we know it. Are _you_ willing to risk that?"

"I don't have to," she said, and finally, there was a little emotion in her voice.

That was odd. He stopped dead in his tracks, frozen. Although he wasn't cold, gooseflesh erupted all over his body. Something was off. Was this…what was this faint, sharp, unpleasant smell in the air? Was…no, they couldn't have. They wouldn't. "Bella…"

She stopped, too, and turned to face him, placing herself in his path. Then, walking up to him until they were almost collarbone to forehead, she said, "We know what we're willing to risk, Jake. The question is…"

"Oh, God."

Strange lighting, further away, in direction of the hotel, flickered into the night sky. Farther ahead, too. The stench got worse. They…they actually had…

Shouts erupted. Sirens in the distance. People stopped to look about, find the source of the commotion.

Fire.

Bella placed an ice-cold hand on his arm, causing him to stare down at her in horror. "The question is, are you prepared to go to any extreme? We are."

He opened his mouth to ask her what she'd done, but suddenly, pain pierced his stomach. Her other hand. She…she…he stumbled back, trembling, pulling out a syringe from his belly. "What…" Then, the pain hit. Oh, God, the pain burning melting searing scorching God his whole body his veins his head his eyes oh God.

Biting heavily into his tongue, he dropped to his knees.

"It's okay," Bella's cold voice whispered into his ear. "I've got you."

Jacob hardly noticed how she scooped him up into her skinny arms and dashed away quicker than any human could see. Only one thing was stronger than the pain: the thought of Nessie.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Dear all, thank you for reading and reviewing. An interesting objection was made, namely that the vampire transformation depicted in this fic is too cumbersome and impractical to be plausible. I happen to agree. If these were vampires of my own creation, their transformation would probably look different, but I did announce (way back in chapter 1) that I would be taking SMeyer's canon to its logical extreme. She's the one who wrote that it takes several days and that it's incredibly painful. She's the one who wrote her new-borns as being crazed with bloodlust - well, she told and never showed, and Bella turned into a horribly obnoxious Sue in BD, but that's how they are supposed to be. SMeyer also wrote her vampires as having simultaneous micro- and macrovision after they turn, and as hearing everything all at once, which would render them blind and deaf - hence Bella's difficulties in this fic. If you see everything at once, you see nothing at all. No matter how sparkly and awesome your vamps are, Steph, that's how it would work. Does any of SMeyer's lore make much sense? Nope, but this is a canon re-write. Anyway, it's always a pleasure reading your thoughts on my story, and I thank you all for giving me the time of day. In this chapter, shit gets real. There are also a number of references to TMNT 1987, South Park, Star Trek, Ghostbusters 1984, Real Ghostbusters...yeah, that's all I can think of right now. I hope you enjoy it! I really appreciate the feedback.**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four**

 **1** _**People at the hotel are gonna**_ **die,** Leah had objected when they were talking over their infallible plan at the beach house.

 _They're doomed, anyway_ , Jasper had countered. _They've all been infected by the Borg Queen. Their fate was sealed the moment the little trio of freaks walked into that hotel_.

 _You don't know that, jackass!_

He'd given her an unmistakeable bitch-please look. _Honey, you don't seriously think that dear Nessie would entrench herself in that place without making sure everyone within reach is hers to command, right?_

 _I know what I saw_ , Maria had added cheerily, although fuck if Leah knew whether this was a genuine sentiment or not. It was so hard to tell with vampires. Maria had been sitting to Jasper's left on the big couch, Bell-Bell to his right _. I'm afraid they're all lost_.

Leah had shot a look at Demetri and seen all confirmation she'd ever need. _Fine. So they're as good as dead. Jacob-_

 _Doesn't know that_ , Bella had cut in. _He doesn't perceive Renesmee as a threat or as dangerous. He can't. She's his imprint. If anything, he probably believes that we want to take her away from him. I'm positive that he thinks we'll want to ensure the human hostages' safety. He'll try to use them as leverage_.

 _And so we sacrifice dozens of people_ , Leah had said snidely, and snorted derisively. _Nice_. _Really, that's just fucking charming._

 _There's no other way_ , Demetri had said. _Maria is right: they are all lost and will have to be eliminated, anyway. It would, however, make sense to use that inevitability to our advantage_.

Juggling with lives to further one's agenda had seemed very much vampiric in nature to Leah, but she'd agreed (grudgingly) that the leeches were spot on the money about that one. If dozens of innocent people had to die, anyway, to keep the horror from spreading, then at least they should die for a good cause. It wasn't as if their demise was up for debate. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

In theory, though, everything always sounded much more straight forward than it ended up being. The plan was simple enough: Bell-Bell was going to poison Jacob with a dose of her venom. Jasper, Maria, and Maria's minions would position themselves in an extended perimeter around the hotel, but far enough away not to be smelled or seen by their targets; they'd also start a number of fires. Fires. In a huge city filled with innocent people. Fire as a diversion. Anyway, Leah and Demetri would, accompanied by a number of other leeches, storm the hotel. Four of them would attempt to get to Rosalie and the demon baby and Charlie, while the others…yeah, they'd do the clean-up job regarding the rest of the patrons.

Better not to think about that.

The green area and little park behind the two silvery towers of the hotel were on fire. From the front, the setting sun reflected off the metal and windows in bright red and orange. From behind, flames flickered, drenching the huge buildings in dark shadows. Black smoke was billowing into the only partially overcast evening sky. Only the most dramatic reveal of dying sunlight for the most dramatic event of their lives! At least nature had a sense of propriety. From the distance, sirens could be heard. Passers-by were staring and simultaneously running away from the mayhem. Cars were stopping in the middle of the road. The ambient noise was unbelievable – the smell of things burning to a crisp, too.

Nobody was exiting the hotel.

Getting lost in all the chaos, Leah and her leech posse (dibs on the band name!) pushed through the doors into the lobby.

"Aw, _fuck!_ What the hell?" It was out before she knew it. Before she knew it, too, she'd reached out and grabbed Demetri's elbow, as if to hold him back or something equally idiotic. What was she, the team mom? _Real Ghostbusters_ Janine after studio intervention? Christ.

The reaction wasn't completely unwarranted, though. At least ten people were just standing there, staring at them, their mouths hanging open in silent screams, their faces twisted masks of horror and panic. Some of them had reddish-brown stains caking their chins and their clothes. All of their eyes were completely white, as if their eyeballs had rolled back in an attempt to crawl into their skulls.

The stench was unbelievable, making the stinging smell of burning wood seem like the loveliest of perfumes. Good God, were these people putrefying alive? It was _disgusting_.

"Not our concern," Demetri said lowly, calmly, and started walking ahead. Two of Maria's vampires – a skinny once-black woman (what was _with_ the white-washing these poor people were forced to go through? Lordy!) and a pasty red-headed man – followed wordlessly.

Three other leeches advanced on the still figures.

Trying (and failing) not to shudder, Leah ran past the sort-of zombies and past her three companions. She was the first to head up the staircase. Yeah, taking the elevator would probably not be a problem, but why risk getting stuck? People always behaved stupidly in movies and trashy novels because the plot said so. Leah aimed for not falling into the traps of her own shortcomings. It wasn't always avoidable, but in this case, the smarter choice was pretty obvious.

"Do you want to phase?" Demetri was to her right in a flash. Oh yeah, right: those people never got physically tired. How annoying.

She'd almost forgotten (that he was a vampire). "Only if I have to. If Charlie's still alive, he'll need a familiar face to look at."

"If they haven't split, already," Red-Headed Vampire Guy said. He was close behind.

"They can't. We've got them surrounded and they will be able to tell," Vampire Woman retorted.

"Well, if you're not going to phase, please forgive me for this," Demetri said, unceremoniously scooped Leah into his arms, and started dashing upstairs at a blinding, scenery-blurring pace, "but we're a little pressed for time, and in human form, you're slower than I am."

Leah hardly had time to cry out in protest or to feel nauseous before they reached the top story. Holy fuck. "Thanks a bunch, buddy," she muttered when he set her on her feet again, and reeled for a second.

"Apologies," he said, not really sounding very sorry at all. "Shall we go?"

"Yes. No time like the present," she said, and took a deep breath. They stepped out of the door leading from the stairs and onto the corridor. It was silent, and the air smelled clean. No sort-of zombies around here, then. Thank goodness for that one! In front of the door to the presidential suite (and assuming that that was where their pals would be hiding was a bit of a no-brainer), they all stopped. "Well, do we knock?" Here was Leah's trusted old coping mechanism again. She was Doctor Snark and Captain Sarcasm, all rolled into one. How delightful.

"They're in there, waiting for us," Vampire Woman said, while Leah wished she'd had a better memory for things like people's names. Well, nobody was perfect.

"Waiting for us to walk in there and let the spawn erase our free will with its demon voice," Leah said. "Maybe it needs to touch us, since we're not human." Otherwise, why wasn't Re-name-me screaming from the inside? Why did the whole gig have to be so damn creepy? Her stomach panged. This part of the plan was…icky. She'd actually wanted to get this bullshit over with before, but both she and the vampires healed too quickly. Well, the vampires didn't heal so much as simply reassemble, and-

Oh, for _heaven's_ sake! Now was so not the time for internal ramblings! This whole stupid plan was half-assed and very likely to fail, but they were _desperate_. Also, they did have a failsafe…kind of. Sort of. Yeah.

"We should just do it," Vampire Guy said, as if reading her thoughts. He wasn't. She'd checked.

"This whole bullshit is so convoluted and stupid and depending on a whole lot of variables aligning just the way we need them to, I feel like we're gonna walk in there to find Shredder and Krang waiting for us with a trans-dimensional mutagen ray or something," Leah said, and pulled the convenient knitting needle she'd found at the house from her sweater's left sleeve.

Demetri glanced at her, eyebrows raised. "Who?"

Leah only waved off.

"More like Cthulhu and Eric Cartman," Vampire Guy said from behind her. "Although if they do win, maybe we'll wake up from a dream where we only thought we'd failed at preventing the episode's villains from turning Tijuana into Shredderville."

"What was that episode's Aesop again?" Leah said. Her stomach was churning. Yes, she was stalling. No, it didn't change the fact that they were going to actually go through with their ridiculously cartoonish plan. "Be careful what you wish for, Turtles!"

"Yeah, totally radical, dude. Very nice. I was around during the Eighties, too, you know," Vampire Woman said, sounding a little bored and very much annoyed. "Can we please finally get a move on and stop spouting outdated pop-culture references? The people in there are probably getting antsy."

"Cowabunga, friends and allies," Leah muttered, and braced herself for the pain. "Here we go." Without further ado, she jammed the needle into her ears.

* * *

 **2** **Jacob didn't so much as lose consciousness, but he must've been sort of in and out of it** , as he lost some chunks of time. One moment, beach. Pain. Nausea. Bella carrying him. Black-out. Some house. Stairs. Black-out. Being tied to a chair. Black-out. A gag? Duct tape? _Seriously_? Black-out.

Then, bright light in his eyes. Might've been acid. He tried to scream. Muffled yell came out, instead. He couldn't move. _Why couldn't he move?_ His skin was burning. His blood was burning. His eyes were burning. He was on fire liquefying acid lava excruciating pain so much pain sweet Jesus flames _agony_.

Where was Nessie? Oh God, they were after Nessie, his precious girl, the most important person in the universe, and he was here, helpless and in pain, completely useless! What was going to happen? What were they going to do? They wanted to take her away from him, keep her all to themselves, lock her up where she couldn't have any more friends! He couldn't let that happen! The thought of her sadness alone felt like someone punching into his gut and ripping his insides out. Oh God. _Oh God!_

That was when he realised that he was bawling. God damn it!

"Is the light making it worse? I'm sorry." Was that Bella? That lousy, lying piece of _shit!_ Once he managed to free himself, he was going to make her pay, he was going-

Relative darkness returned. A little relief! He drew in a tremulous breath through his snot-dripping nose. Not his number-one option at the moment, but what with the fucking duct tape…

"I'm sorry about the pain, Jake, but there was no other way," she said flatly, tonelessly. Her metallic voice felt like shrapnel in his poor, tortured ears. "It should be less awful because I infected you via injection and not by biting you directly. Demetri says this lessens the effect of the venom." She sat down on the big bed opposite the chair she'd tied him to and just looked at him passively for an excruciatingly long half-eternity. "You're too far gone. You're no longer fit to consent, as Jasper would call it."

Wait, was there warmth in her voice at the mention of Creepula? For fuck's sake, here he was, burning, writhing, helpless, unsure whether he was going to be able to keep from shitting himself, and she had a crush on _goddamn Creepula?_ This was so screwed up. He squinted at her and tried to fling an insult at her head, but of course, nothing but a stifled groan came out.

"I'm hoping the venom breaks the control just as it broke yours over Leah, but I'm not counting on it. Maybe we can incapacitate you until they come up with a cure in Volterra. Then again, maybe there is no cure. Maybe there is damage control. Maybe there is nothing at all. We'll have to wait and see what happens, won't we?" She tilted her head slightly to the side as she watched him, unblinking. "I don't want you to die. I don't want Charlie to die. But there's the distinct possibility that we won't have a choice."

Who the hell was 'we', anyway? Awesome of her. Here she was, pretending to have a bleeding heart in order to absolve herself of the guilt of murdering those closest to her. Acknowledging that something was wrong did not wash the sins away. Man, these leeches were all such hypocrites! How he longed to have his strength back! He'd rip her head off and toss it in the fire her little friends had started.

"I know you don't want to hear this, Jake, but Renesmee is dangerous – very dangerous. Already, she's responsible for multiple deaths. More will follow. She's not just a little girl. She's never been just a little girl. Her mind has always been developed, and what she does is take away people's free will. She eats away the personalities of everyone she touches and turns them into her drones. How can you not see how wrong, how terrible that is?"

His stomach clenched. He felt sick. Great. If he was going to throw up, it was going to have to come out of his nostrils. Awesome. Good thing he was sweating buckets, too, to compensate for that. Hallelujah. Some of her words struck a chord, somehow, reminding him of earlier, more peaceful days, but…but…no. No! _No!_ This was _bullshit!_ Nessie was a little girl, and all she wanted was to be loved and protected! That was all there was to it! He needed to get back to her. He _needed_ _her!_

"Stop struggling. You'll only make it worse for yourself," she said, again in that flat, emotionless tone. Sure, she was really heartbroken about all of this, wasn't she? Psychopathic asshole with no motherly instinct, that was what she was! A soulless, undead monster. "You're outnumbered and outgunned. We've got Jasper and Maria to divert attention from the hotel and to calm everyone down. We've got Demetri and Leah to take care of the rest." She paused, but all he could do was glare at her out of his poor, watering, tortured eyes. "I know you thought that taking all those humans hostage was your trump card, but it wasn't. They're all infected and would have to die anyway."

That…what? He hadn't expected…seriously? God Lord, these monsters were cold! Were they…were they really…his stomach churned worse than ever. It felt as if his innards were liquefying. What the hell? They couldn't…they…sweet Jesus. This was fucking awful!

"I know that you won't see it this way because you can't, but we're the good guys in this," she went on prattling. Yeah, sure. "So what we're gonna do is sit tight and wait until it's all over. Then, we'll decide what happens to you."

Oh, wasn't that just great? How magnanimous of her. If he could have, he would've strangled her right there and then. How could he ever have loved such a cold, selfish, murderous piece of garbage who wouldn't even lift a finger to save her own daughter? She was right about one thing, though: right now, there really was nothing to do but wait. He'd wait until the effect of the venom had lessened, and then he would kill this undead monster and all of her allies. He'd get back to his Nessie, no matter what.

No matter what.

* * *

 **3** **At least the hearing loss worked perfectly.** The funny thing was, they didn't even know how strong Renesfail's voice powers were, but risking being taken in any more than they already had would be really stupid. That was why going temporarily deaf was the safer choice rather than opting for earmuffs or earplugs. Sure, the whole plan was still half-assed and depended on a whole bunch of things working out just right, but desperate times and all. They didn't have much of a choice, and they had to act quickly.

Now, was this the plot of an awesome 80s cartoon or of a bad 2000s horror flick? Maybe both. Probably both. It was absurd enough, in any case, but hey, this was Leah's life, and she had always wanted to live through incredible adventures. Yeah. So much for that.

Unable to hear herself, she called out (yelled?) for Rosalie to open the door and let them in, that they didn't want anyone else to get hurt, that they'd come in anyway, and that Rosalie and Renesmee had nowhere to run. Of course, nothing happened. In her human form, Leah couldn't exactly smell them, but if they tried to bolt, her vamp buddies would notice. She was pretty sure, however, that Rosalie was bound to realise that all exits were blocked for her and the demon baby. When the door wasn't opened, Vampire Woman kicked it in. As they'd agreed previously, they waited, but still, nothing happened. Cautiously and deliberately slowly, they entered the lion's den. Leah's heart was pounding and she was ready to phase at a moment's notice. She hoped to God that Charlie was still alive.

They found all three of them in the living area, waiting. Rosalie was standing by the huge panorama window, holding a weeping Renesmee in her arms. Charlie stood right beside her, dishevelled and pale, his cheeks covered in dark stubble, his moustache in disarray, his hands in the pockets of his blood-stained uniform pants. He obviously knew that he had zero chance of escaping. Before he could even make it halfway to the couch, Bitch Barbie From Hell would be able to break his neck at least half a dozen times.

When he saw Leah, his warm, brown eyes grew wide, and there was a flicker of hope in them.

She gave him a grim little smile and nodded curtly. To Rosalie, whose own bright-red eyes were darting from one hostile to the other, she said, "We can't hear you and we won't let the d…the child touch us." Briefly, she held up her gloved hands and sent a silent (and grudging) thanks to Maria, who'd provided them with what they needed earlier. "Rosalie, you're surrounded. There is no escape. If you try to run, you'll die. The kid will, too. I know that's the last thing you want."

Renesmee buried her face in Rosalie's golden locks and clung onto her like it was the end of the world. Well, in a sense, it was. Her entire body shook uncontrollably.

Rosalie said something, and even though Leah's lip-reading ability was limited, it was fairly obvious that the words had not been those of kindness and friendship and puppies and unicorns.

"We have Jacob," Leah continued, cutting into whatever hateful tirade the leech was hurling at her. "The infected humans have already been taken care of." 'Mercy-killed' was the term she was actually looking for. "For now, Jasper and Maria are keeping people away from the building, but that won't last forever."

She stared at the leech, arms crossed, willing her to see reason beyond the mind-warp she'd suffered – irreversible mind-warp, according to Demetri. Leah's stomach roiled. Here she was, lying to these people's faces as if it were nothing. They both had to die, and she was selling them a happy ending where there could be none. The worst thing was, she was doing it well. Fibbing had never been much of a problem, but she'd never actually told big, game-changing lies to anyone. This here was a matter of life and death. That didn't exactly compare to lying to her mom about sneaking out at night in order to hook up with Sam. Images of the vampires she'd killed (Skinny kid in a soccer jersey. Short lady. Chubby boy. Pixie-haircut girl.) popped up before her mind's eye. She was a killer. Yes, those leeches had already been dead. Yes, it had been self-defence. No, rationalising the taking of a life did not make it better at all.

Then, she thought of Jared and Embry, carelessly murdered and left in the woods to rot. She thought of Seth, who'd said all those hateful things to her because he'd already been too far gone, who'd tried to kill her in order to protect the demon-spawn. She thought of her friends and distant relatives dying in the name of an ancient duty to protect the land and the people. She thought of the little wolves being crushed to death by undead monsters who'd been responsible for every single tragedy that had unfolded in and around Forks, long before the mind-warping demon baby had waltzed upon the stage. She thought of the dead humans, and how casual the Cullens had been about those deaths, how they had turned Bell-Bell fully expecting her to go berserk and murder oodles of innocent human beings. She thought of the rest of her people, who were being held hostage by that fucking albino leech and the creepy _Shining_ twins. She thought of Sam and Emily. She thought of her dad. She thought of Jacob, whose fate was as good as sealed. She thought of Charlie and the hope she'd just seen in his eyes. She thought of Bell-Bell and her sadistic little boyfriend, killing as they went and having exactly zero fucks to give. She thought of Demetri, who hadn't chosen any of this and who still managed to be a decent person, despite the fact that someone had turned him into a parasitic monster against his will.

Finally, she thought of herself.

The pain in her stomach vanished. Her hands stopped shaking. She felt her face getting hot. Straightening her posture, she said, "It's _over_. You know it. We know it. Give up. You got nowhere to run, and you can only make it worse for everyone, mostly yourselves. You resist, you die. That's all there is to it. Negotiations are done."

Rosalie stared at her, wide-eyed and thin-lipped, whilst Charlie looked like he was on the verge of high-fiving Leah. He looked so…proud.

That cut right into Leah's heart. She glanced at Demetri, who nodded.

He said something Leah couldn't make out, and Rosalie's panicky stare fixed on him.

She backed against the thick glass, crushing Renesmee to her chest, shaking her head. When she spoke, there was no mistaking her words, as she very clearly enunciated, "Go to hell."

Oh-oh. Time to wolf out and time for the vamps to jump to the rescue. They'd take care of Rosalie and the demon-spawn; Leah would save Charlie, as agreed. Whatever his fate might be, he would _not_ die here in this stupid hotel at the hands of goddamn Rosalie Hale. She balled her hands into fists, flexed her muscles, felt the heat rising-

That was when it happened. Quick as lightning, unexpected, almost as if he were a leech himself, Charlie turned left, grabbed Renesmee's head, and twisted it harshly. Leah could almost hear the snapping sound. The kid went limp in Rosalie's arms. Rosalie stared at Charlie as if he'd just transmuted into the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, her mouth open, her eyes huge. He stared right back, pale as a sheet, clearly not believing he'd just done what he'd done.

Leah saw it happen before it actually happened. Rosalie held the lifeless body of the demon-spawn against herself with her left arm, clenched her right fist, hauled back-

Leah screamed. She jumped, shoved Charlie away. The fist connected with her torso, punched through it. Pain. God oh God what was this oh God her body was broken it was broken dear Lord the pain! Blood. Air. No air! Oh, God. Oh, no. The floor seemed to come up, connected with her face. She hardly felt that. Legs in her field of vision, yanking Rosalie away. So much blood! She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! She-

The world went black.

* * *

 **4** **The hotel in Port Angeles that Chelsea had chosen before her return to Volterra was really quite proper:** it overlooked the rather captivating Strait of Juan de Fuca and was only a block away from the town centre. Not that Caius and his small entourage would do much exploring during the short time they'd be staying there. No, they'd fed well before leaving Italy, and they wouldn't need to risk exposing themselves for at least another week. Less experienced vampires might be too tempted to succumb to their urges sooner, but centuries of experience, practice, and patience taught a person the self-discipline that he or she needed in order to survive in this world.

Self-discipline might not be enough to control all the damage that had been done here, though. Already – as Quirina had discovered – the FBI had been asked to assist with investigations by the local police, and given the fact that the Cullens had been under observation for their dodgy financial practices anyway, this affair was far from over. Demetri and the other surviving vampires had done a good job eliminating physical evidence, and all living witnesses were accounted for, but that didn't mean they were all safe from discovery. No, once the immediate danger was over, some major damage control would need to be effected. That would be the perfect opportunity for Jasper Whitlock to prove his worth to his new coven, wouldn't it?

Caius was standing on the balcony of his suite. He was looking out at the slowly darkening waters of the strait, breathing in the salty, briny sea air because he needed it in order to be able to speak to Aro through the pre-paid mobile telephone…but also because it reminded him of the days when he'd been stationed at Ostia with his garrison of soldiers, millennia ago. How heart-wrenching it had been to be forced to leave it all behind. How devastating it had been to helplessly watch the proud and mighty Roman Empire fall. How-

Oh, this was quite useless.

Grabbing the metal railing with almost too much force, he said, "You're sure the woman does not show symptoms of corruption?"

On the other end of the line, Aro laughed softly. " _You should listen to yourself, dear brother: 'the woman'. She has a name, you know._ "

"I know." What he really meant to say was that he didn't give a fig, but Aro had a tendency to dial up his charming power whenever someone got too blunt for his taste, and Caius was in no mood to be dazzled against his will.

" _As for your question: no, she remains uncorrupted. She is not unsusceptible to the creature's powers, but the creature cannot force her to do its bidding. It's quite fascinating! I believe we are really edging closer to a solution, maybe even a cure_."

If he were to be perfectly candid, Caius had no idea how to feel about that announcement. He was well aware that dhampirs were to Aro what werewolves were to himself: Aro hated them with unmitigated passion. Of course it would be good news – great news, in fact – if Aro managed to find a way to counteract dhampir corruption. Still, he'd only barely come to terms with what had happened to his sister, all those centuries ago. Sometimes, rage and grief still completely overwhelmed him to the point of rendering him almost helpless. How well would he be able to handle finding out that execution wasn't the only option for those who had been spoiled by a half-breed's unholy powers? Caius didn't know. Any scenario was possible. Aro had been so hell-bent on finding answers, the whole affair had basically become the white whale to his Captain Ahab. What did a person do once the strongest driving force of their lives was taken away from them?

Caius put his free hand to his mangled throat and closed his eyes for a moment. He then thought of Atalante and her words to him. She'd told him that he had won. She'd told him that his enemies were dead and that he was not. For the first time in possibly forever, he wondered whether that was the source of his ever-growing lack of contentment. Maybe he needed enemies to fight. Maybe he really was unable to shake the part of himself that was a Roman commander who'd known nothing but war games all his life.

The bigger question was: did the same apply to Aro? The answer to this would make all the difference to every vampire in the whole world once he managed to reach the goal he'd been striving to reach for over half a millennium…whether this meant finding a cure for dhampir corruption or coming to the conclusion that that was utterly impossible.

"If you're right, my initial instinct to collect and not summarily execute the Cullen dhampir was right."

" _No!_ " The sharpness of Aro's reply was almost enough to make Caius flinch. More softly, he added, " _No. Fiora is all we need. The Cullen one seems even more powerful, and I don't want to have two mind-consuming monsters under my roof_. _It just doesn't seem very prudent to me._ "

"If you feel that way. I'll tell Demetri."

" _Tell him to collect some of the corrupted people, too: a vampire, that imprinted wolf, and a human. I need living subjects to test my theory on_. _Who knows? Maybe I can heal them._ "

Caius looked out at the grey waters again. There was a stiff breeze coming in from the sea. It felt lovely. There was something inherently pleasing about the ocean. Sighing inwardly, he made himself say the following: "Demetri has been acting very protective of one of the werewolves – the female, Leah Clearwater. I think he's become emotionally attached to her in some way."

There was a moment of silence. Then, Aro said, " _Ah, I see. Our permanently lonely boy makes a friend you disapprove of, and now you're convinced that he's turned traitor, or something equally absurd_ ," merrily.

Well, wasn't this just typical? Biting back a sharp comeback, Caius limited himself to replying, "These creatures are just as dangerous to us as half-breeds, Aro. Matters such as these are not to be taken lightly," through clenched teeth.

" _Dear Caius, you should know me well enough to understand that I take nothing lightly_ ," Aro said, still sounding cheerful, even though he knew that Caius knew that this tone of voice could not always be trusted. " _I just happen to agree with Demetri: the Quileute wolves are only a threat to us if we threaten them, first_." Of course Aro would know everything about what Demetri thought on the subject after one brief second of touching Chelsea's hand.

"As the highest ranking field officer, I've taken the liberty of giving him an ultimatum: either he proves his loyalty by killing the female wolf, or I will erase this tribe from the face of the Earth once and for all."

There was a heavy, rather exasperated sigh at the other end. " _I wish you hadn't done that – really, I do. I don't like it when deals made by one of our agents get unmade by a superior. It makes us look bad, and that is something we do not need._ "

"Aro…" Caius started impatiently, but Aro cut him off.

" _No, I won't cancel out your decision. You are, as you so eloquently put it, the highest ranking field officer. You are my general, Caius, and I won't undermine your authority. That kind of lack of unity would make us look worse than a massacre ever could, because at least the latter commands respect. I would advise you to act more prudently in the future, however, and take into consideration that violence is not always the best course of action_." Again, he sighed. " _I wish you had consulted me before giving Demetri this rather rash ultimatum_." At least he wasn't cancelling it out.

Caius felt a grim little smile take hold of his sharp-angled features. The breeze coming in from the water blew back his short, blond hair, and ruffled the scarf concealing his faintly itching scar. "I'll keep that in mind."

" _See that you do. It would really pain me to be forced to supervise the every step of a person I've come to rely on so much_." It was smart not to ignore this thinly-veiled threat, because no matter how idiosyncratic Aro's behaviour might get, he wasn't exactly in the habit of idly threatening people.

"Of course. If you make any progress with the half-breed, I want updates. Oh, and there is a corrupted wolf youth in La Push that you might want to examine more closely, if the one in Mexico cannot be salvaged alive."

" _Well, isn't that_ delightful _news?_ " Aro probably already knew that one, too, but he just loved his little games, didn't he? " _Of course I will keep you informed, dear brother. Please, enjoy your stay in America. I hope nothing will happen to inconvenience your short holiday_. _One last thing, though: I've decided to allow Chelsea to re-join you in Port Angeles. She expressed regret at having to cut her trip short. I'm sure you'll appreciate her company._ " With that, he disconnected the call.

Only barely refraining from tossing the phone over the railing, Caius bit his tongue and brusquely stomped back inside the room. No matter what Aro said, no matter how many spies Aro sent, Caius _knew_ that _he_ was right. The werewolf threat had to be eliminated. There was no other choice. Aro obviously wouldn't approve if Caius decided to kill all the wolves, but he would _not_ jeopardise the Volturi leaders' unity publicly at any price.

After all, a massacre was the lesser evil, wasn't it?

* * *

 **5** **"You want me to do** _ **what?**_ **" Irina stared at Aro incredulously.** They were back in her cell / guest room. He'd led her back there a while ago, telling her he needed to take care of some business, and that it would be lovely if she just stayed put during his absence. Naturally, she did as required. What else was she supposed to do, anyway? Roam the corridors, weeping? Hardly. She'd busied herself well enough in the interim, but of course, her mind had kept returning to the subject of Fiora, the brain-eating dhampir who'd not managed to make her do its bidding.

It? _It?_ Good God. Had she really just thought of that poor girl with a dehumanising pronoun? Yes, it would make everything a lot easier, dehumanising her, but easy did usually not equal right. It certainly didn't in this case.

"You have no supernatural ability, and yet there is something in you that makes you resistant to the powers of the strongest dhampirs," Aro explained cheerfully. God, he just looked so unbelievably _happy_ , it was nigh on impossible for her to resist the temptation of simply giving into the feeling, herself. "There has to be a reason for this. The best option we have is to test the most probable hypotheses first."

Okay. That made sense. What it didn't do was make the affair any more palatable – literally, in this case. She crossed her arms and took a little step back, trying hard to shield herself from the effects of his bubbly enthusiasm. This guy was really something else. It was one thing to find oneself under unwanted circumstances. It was quite different when one suddenly started to _feel_ things that were unwanted and that were being originated by another person.

"And the most probable hypothesis is that my resistance is somehow tied to something in my venom?"

In a split second, he was right in front of her, grabbing her upper arms, beaming at her in a way that made it impossible for her to look away from him. "Wouldn't that be absolutely incredible? Nothing short of amazing?"

She shrugged awkwardly, feeling strangely weak in the knees. "Well, I've been called a poisonous succubus before."

At that, he laughed. "You young people and your sarcasm. Don't put yourself down, dear girl. You are a marvel of nature. In fact, you might be a game-changer, and don't we all want to be special in some way?"

Through all the dazzling, Irina was not too far gone to not notice how phony all this flattery was. He didn't know her. He had no reason to care, but probably every reason to believe that nice manners were bound to get him further than brute force. Still, thinking about the girl in the cage reminded her that this was a person who was capable of great violence, who-

He took her hands. The smile vanished. "I'm sorry you feel that way, and in time, I hope I can persuade you otherwise."

Oh, yes. She'd almost forgotten about his tactile telepathy.

"An easy mistake to make," he said, voice and expression warm again. "Come on, then, sweet Irina. Let us test our most likely hypothesis."

* * *

 **6** **Bella and Jacob hadn't sat around in the master bedroom for long, when her phone rang.** She plucked it out of her pocket, stared at it with that blank look on her weird face for a couple of seconds, and then took the call. "Yes? Oh, hi." Was that warmth in her voice again? Aw, sweet. It must be Creepula calling, wanting nothing more than to update his lady love on current events.

Yuck.

Jacob sat slumped in that dumb chair, boiling and freezing at the same time, his stomach lurching and his breath hitching, his teeth chattering, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. The rope felt like it was cutting into melting skin. Was this even a fraction of what people experienced while they were being turned into leeches? No wonder they all went fucking insane. All he wanted to do was rip his burning skin off, crawl into the ocean, and sleep sleep sleep forever. Instead, here he was, not even allowed temporal insanity, being forced to have a fully functioning mind despite the pain and nausea. He watched Bella as she listened to whoever.

She was utterly immobile, not breathing, not blinking, not emoting. God knew how long this went on, but finally, she shoved the phone back into the pocket of her pants. Focussing her dead eyes on Jacob, she said, "It's over."

It felt like a punch in his dissolving stomach. Bile shot up his throat. He gagged, swallowed it down again, cringed. This was disgusting! His thoughts kept screaming Nessie's name. Where was she? What had they done to her? Was she all right? She must feel so frightened, so lost, so _unloved_ , so-

All that escaped his lips was a muffled whimper. He struggled against his restraints, but was helpless against them until the stupid venom wore off.

"Charlie broke Renesmee's neck," Bella said, sounding mildly surprised, while Jacob almost vomited. "Not that this will kill her, not permanently at least, but it did put her out of commission for a while. Interesting, isn't it? I hadn't even thought of that."

Interesting? _Interesting?_ These goddamn monsters! Laying hands on _his_ girl! He was gonna rip them all limb from limb! He was gonna annihilate their entire unholy species! He would watch them all burn! He would-

"Leah's been badly injured, though, Jasper tells me," Bella went on, very obviously completely indifferent. "She might not make it." After a moment of silence, she tilted her head slightly to the side, not taking her creepy corpse eyes off him. "You know, I once thought that I had stumbled into the loveliest fairy tale. In such a tale, the plucky heroine – in this case Leah rather than myself – would undoubtedly survive whatever gruesome injury she suffered during her heroic quest. She'd get to her lowest point, and then she'd overcome her difficulties and triumph against evil, in the end. But this isn't a fairy tale, is it, Jake? No, this is a horror story, the kind where it only pays off to be the right kind of monster. I understand that now. I didn't before, but now I do." She got up to her feet, stepped over to him, and reached out to touch his face. He flinched violently, though, and she let her hand drop to her side. "Neither Renesmee, nor Leah are the right kind of monster, you see, and if Renesmee's temporary death doesn't change your condition at all, then I'm afraid that neither are you."

He stared at her out of wide eyes. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, his nose, his chin, burning as it went. His heart was thundering. His whole body trembled. Oh, Leah. Of _course_ he didn't want her to die, but if she'd gotten herself crushed while trying to harm his Nessie, then she'd brought it upon herself. No, what really mattered was getting back to his precious girl. He needed to save her from those abominations holding her hostage. If Leah's little buddies hadn't gotten rid of Barbie, yet, then Jacob would have to do it, instead. Nessie wouldn't be too pleased at first, but she'd understand. The vampires were bad for her. No, what she really needed was Jacob – him, and no-one else. He'd make her understand. She could still have human pets if she wanted (and of course she deserved to be worshipped as a goddess), but the only person she really needed in her life was Jacob. Soon, they'd be reunited, and then he would make the vampires pay for what they'd done.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-five**

 **1** **"It…she's quite immobilised, my dear. There is no reason to be afraid,"** Aro told Irina, as they stood in front of that awful, frozen door at the end of the equally awful corridor of curiosities and assorted monsters.

She had absolutely no idea what was behind the other doors, nor did she care to find out. Instead, she just looked back at him with a mix of apprehension and fascination, well aware that he could hear every single one of her thoughts due to the fact that he was holding her hands. "Then why is she chained up like that, if there's no reason to be afraid?" There was no point in keeping anything to herself, but simply having a one-sided conversation where he read her thoughts and replied to them out loud was kind of strange; she felt compelled to speak.

"Hm," he made, and chuckled wryly. "That's an excellent question. The answer is that there would be reason to be afraid if she weren't chained up like that, if she weren't starved, and if you weren't this resilient." After a brief moment's hesitation, he added, "Also if I weren't here."

Arching her eyebrows, she said, "You can control her with your ability?"

He bit his lower lip and briefly raised his eyebrows. It was an oddly sheepish look. "Not completely, no, but I can hold her in check if I put my mind to it. At her full strength, however, she is more than a match for me. It cost me dearly to get her in there in the first place."

"And now you want me to go in there and bite her."

"Yes." He gave her hands a little squeeze and then cupped her face. Although this must be an illusion, his skin felt warm to the touch, so much so that she could almost pretend that her cheeks were flushed – that she still had blood coursing through her petrified veins. "She'll be too slow and sluggish to resist, and I'll use my own power to distract her as long as you're in there. It should only take you a few seconds, anyway." He cracked a dazzling smile. "I apologise for the discomfort in advance. Regrettably, but for what I believe are understandable reasons, we couldn't exactly afford to allow her to take regular baths."

Memories of home and hearth and safety in face of all this horror let Irina's thoughts wander to her sisters. Even if the Cullens had called them and assured them that all was well, the last update they'd got would have been days ago. They just had to be getting suspicious by now, no matter how easily vampires got distracted, no matter how relative their view on time might be. What if they decided to investigate? What if they turned on the TV and happened to come across footage of the Cullens' burned house, of reports about all the massacred vacationers and that one camp Jasper had lit on fire? What if-

" _Irina_." Aro's warm, pleasant voice gently dragged her back to the here and now. Vampires had a tendency to internal ramblings that figuratively froze them to the spot. He was, of course, smiling. It was mesmerising. How could such an ordinary face look that captivatingly beautiful? What an enviable power he had. His smile grew. "Please, don't worry about a thing. Your sisters have been informed that you have been exposed to a dangerous pathogen and that the best they can do is stay out of our way as we treat you for it. Yes, they brought up the argument that vampires don't get sick, but we asked them to trust us and to trust that we are doing everything in our power to help you. We've also asked them to take our word for it and to keep quiet about the current development until the crisis has been resolved."

In other words, they'd been intimidated into compliance and into silence, hadn't they?

He sighed, clearly exasperated. "Dear, sweet girl, if only I could make you understand that I am not a despot. I don't thrive on spreading intimidation and fear wherever I go." When she thought that he had clearly neglected to pass that particular memo to Caius, he snickered. "Well, yes, he can make rather rash decisions. He is a soldier, after all, and not accustomed to pondering his decisions for long; surely, you understand. Still, I apologise for his conduct. The threats he makes are usually uncalled for and based on his own insecurities."

Slowly but inexorably, she knew that she was starting to believe him. He really was a rather pleasant person to be around, despite (or maybe even because of) his somewhat eccentric mannerisms, wasn't he? And he had treated her with more respect and kindness than she'd expected, truth be told. It may not be what she deserved, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and she did understand that the circumstances were dire. She'd been exposed to a dangerous pathogen, indeed – one that must not ever be allowed to spread. Images of Renesmee greeting her for the very first time popped up before her mind's eye.

She bit her tongue and gathered herself. "It's all right," she said quietly. "I just don't want my sisters to worry. We've lost much. I fear they would stop at nothing to find out what happened to me if they were left in the dark." _Vasilii. Vasilii. Vasilii_. The name was almost like a heartbeat, wasn't it? The only kind of heartbeat she had left. It repeated itself over and over in her head, incessantly, and it would continue to do so until the day she ceased to exist.

"They won't be, and you will be absolutely fine," he said, let go of her, and took a small step back. "I'll open this door now. Please be quick… and _please_ be careful. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you – any harm whatsoever."

After taking a deep, unnecessary breath, she nodded curtly. "All right. Okay. I'm ready." She was as ready as she'd ever be, in any case.

He beamed, said, " _Wonderful_ ," rather enthusiastically, and unlocked the door.

* * *

 **2** **The Forks Police Department had been decimated.** They were almost all gone. Chief Swan was missing, but five other officers were dead. Sure, the human remains found at the smouldering ruins of the Cullen mansion were only now being taken to the special lab in Seattle, and other than was the case in TV shows, it took a good long while for DNA testing to be completed. They'd _have_ to resort to DNA testing, too, if they were to get any definitive results regarding the identity of the dead; all that had been left were charred bones, all jumbled together as if the bodies had been previously ripped into tiny little pieces. It wasn't a certainty yet that the bones belonged to the five police officers, but authorities were almost entirely sure. The DNA testing was all but a formality, as the circumstantial evidence was overwhelmingly easy to interpret.

Already, the FBI had been called in, and a task force was being organised. They were bringing in the heavy guns, the Feds, because this wasn't just a case of several spree murders in the area, being were vaguely connected through a similar MO. No, this was a case directly involving a family of people who had now been under relatively close scrutiny for a good long while. The Cullens actually weren't, as far as the FBI was concerned, a family at all. No, they were a criminal organisation who specialised in financial fraud – to great effect, one had to admit; they'd made millions upon millions during the past few decades.

The general assumption was that the names under which the suspects went publicly – Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Rosalie, Edward, Jasper, Alice –were aliases 'inherited' the moment one of the organisations' members left or died. It was a rather ludicrous notion, surely, but given all the evidence, it was pretty much the only one that made sense. It was either that or subscribing to some agents' pet theory that these people were zombies of whatever kind. They were undead and didn't age, but at the same time, they were so stupid (what with the giant paper trail they'd left all over the place) that their brains could simply not be functioning at full capacity. Okay, they'd managed to go about their business undetected for a good long while, yes; one had to give them that. Maybe they'd just gotten cocky and therefore careless. It didn't matter. Al Capone had gone to jail because he'd failed to pay taxes. It shouldn't be too hard to bring these bozos to justice – finally.

At least that had been the general consensus until a short while ago, when people all around Forks, Washington had started to drop like flies. Campers had vanished, mass graves had been discovered, the Olympic National Forest had nearly been set on fire. Then, the Cullen residence had burned to the ground, and inside the torched remnants, several remains had been found, belonging to humans and non-human creatures that were as of yet unidentified.

There was also the case of all those missing persons in Seattle the year before, and the reports of big bonfires burning close to the Cullen mansion shortly after hordes of pale teenagers had been spotted heading toward Forks. Was there a connection? Law enforcement didn't know for certain, but they suspected as much.

Caius knew all this because Quirina knew all this, and Quirina knew from an online vlogger called June Cassidy, who herself cited 'reliable but confidential sources'. In his hotel suite, Caius watched one of the Cassidy woman's videos on his laptop, stony-faced and completely shell-shocked, Quirina and the twins flanking him on the couch.

"Not so long ago, the Cullen family moved to the small town of Forks, Washington, where they – according to the locals – did everything in their power to stand out," Cassidy was saying into the camera some hapless co-worker was following her around with. They were filming in front of the Forks High School carpark. The woman's voluminous, reddish hair and brightly yellow jacket reminded Caius of one of the most garish decades of the twentieth century: the 1980s. Immediately, he felt dislike for this human. It didn't help that she was butting in where she obviously didn't belong. "I've asked some of the Cullen children's former classmates about their impressions." The camera moved a little, and to Cassidy's left, two young humans appeared, a male and a female. "These are Mike Newton and Jessica Stanley. Say hello to my subscribers, guys!"

Both young people flashed toothy smiles at the camera and waved.

"Hi!" the girl's high-pitched voice squealed with irritatingly genuine delight. She had her dark-brown hair pinned up in a ponytail, giving the vampires a clear view of her pale throat, the pulsing jugular just under the frail skin, the promising hint of living blood in her rosy cheeks…

…all right, maybe they should feed before long, or one of them might end up slipping. Given the circumstances, that would be less than wise.

"So, Jess, Mike, what can you two cute lovebirds tell me about the Cullen kids?"

"Kids, yeah," Mike said, rolling his eyes and flicking away a strand of his dark-blond hair from his round forehead. He had that kind of face that had yet to outgrow the last remnants of childhood. "Tell you the truth, June, none of those guys looked a day under twenty-five. They kept skipping class, they didn't care about anything other than themselves, just going through the motions completely _bored_ -"

"And they made a point _not_ to mingle," Jessica added, nodding vigorously, her hair bopping up and down. She touched the boy's suede-jacket-clad arm briefly, and he hugged her around her waist. "They'd get trays full of food, sit at the back of the cafeteria, and then they'd just throw it all in the trash. They wouldn't talk to anyone, but they made absolutely sure that everyone knew they had all the money and we had none, so we sucked." She made a face of pure and unmitigated disgust. "Then, there was _Bella_."

Mike made a face. "Is it really okay to talk smack about the dearly departed?"

Jessica glared at him as if he'd said the single most stupid thing in the history of humanity. " _You_ don't even think she's dead! Even if, death doesn't magically transform you into a nice person!"

Cassidy flashed a slick smile at the camera, and hurried to explain, "Isabella Swan, who was former classmate of Mike and Jess's, moved to Forks less than two years ago. She and the oldest Cullen son, Edward-"

"If that was really his name," Mike cut in sourly.

"If that was really his name, yes," Cassidy went on without a hitch. "After a brief and _tempestuous_ relationship, Isabella and Edward got married in a very lavish ceremony at the Cullen mansion-"

"And she _totally_ wasn't pregnant, getting married at eighteen," Jessica said in a highly disdainful sing-song tone. "Just saying."

"- only a few months ago. Footage of the wedding will be uploaded to the site soon, courtesy of one of Mike and Jess's good friends, Ben Cheney. Isabella is – or was – also police chief Charles Swan's only child." Cassidy's expression turned sombre. "She hasn't been seen ever since the wedding. The Cullen family proclaimed her dead and funeral services were held in Jacksonville, but a body was never found. Is she really dead? If so, what mysterious disease killed her? Is there any truth to the allegations that the Cullens were hiding her somewhere and lying to her family about her condition? The truth will out, dear viewers, and you'll of course be the first to know!" She whirled around to the pair of teenagers again, beaming. Her big hoop earrings in metallic green reflected the pale sunlight that kept peering out through the clouds. "Guys, tell me all about Isabella."

"Bella – and she'd throw an epic baby-tantrum if anyone called her by her actual name – was the most awful person _ever_ ," Jessica said, all the muscles in her pleasant face tightening. "She was rude, selfish, disdainful, pompous, and thought that she was oh-so-much better than any of us. I tried to be her friend, you know; I really tried. But it's impossible to be friends with someone this self-centred and plain stupid. She almost got me mugged and raped by a band of thugs once!"

"Perfect match for Edward Bitchface Cullen," Mike said, before his eyes grew wide. "Oh…am I allowed to swear?"

"This is the internet and not the evening news, so yeah. Just don't overdo it," Cassidy said, cheerful. She faced the camera again. "The Cullen family – or crime organisation, if you prefer – made no effort to hide the vast amounts of money that they had at their disposal. I have it under good authority that none of that money was earned through legitimate means – literally _none_ of it. Now, if a group of people who were probably thinking that merely living in a small town would automatically mean keeping a low profile-"

"Because that _totally_ worked," Jessica said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Light snow was starting to sprinkle her hair and dark-green coat.

"- and they then proceeded to live extravagantly enough to catch the FBI's eye, then maybe they also caught the eye of whoever they were trying to hide from in the first place. Maybe _those_ people are responsible for the many deaths in and around the area, including the massacre at the Cullen mansion."

"What about that chalky white guy who was staying at Chief Swan's house? He kind of looked like Edward, and a friend of mine saw him, the Chief, and Bella's mom driving to La Push together," Mike said, scratching his neck.

"That's right," Cassidy said, nodding, frowning, a grave expression on her relatively youthful, thin face. "Eye-witnesses have come forward and told me about a mysterious young man who resembled the Cullens in many ways, who was seen talking to Chief Swan and to a resident of La Push right here, at a local café. A police report that Chief Swan filed revealed the identity of this person as one Matthew Darcy, a citizen of the UK, who was apparently searching for his fiancée, Irina Horváthová. She disappeared under the same strange conditions as Isabella, never to be heard from again. So, how many questions is this case going to raise? Where are Isabella and Charles Swan? Why did Renée Dwyer, Isabella's mother, return to Florida even though no progress has been made solving the case of her missing daughter?

"Where is this mysterious Matthew Darcy, and what is his connection to the people of La Push? Is there a link between Isabella Swan's sickness, Irina Horváthová's sickness, and the rumours that a Quileute boy named Seth Clearwater has now fallen ill, as well? Matthew Darcy's meeting with Seth's sister, Leah Clearwater, would suggest so. Who committed all the grisly murders in the area? When will this nightmare be over?" A subtle smile tugged on the corners of her full, dark-red-painted lips. "Stay tuned for further updates, as your favourite on-line investigator unravels one of the great mystery cases of our time. Check out my other vids on the subject – some of them feature security cam candids of this Darcy guy – and join me for the live-feed tomorrow evening at eight, pacific time…and thank you so much, Jess and Mike!"

"Any time, June!" Jessica said cheerily. "In fact, we would just _love_ to-"

Caius snapped the laptop shut. They all just sat there in gobsmacked silence for at least half a minute.

At length, Jane said, "This is not good." She was occupying the space to Caius's right, her twin by her other side.

"That would be the understatement of the decade," Alec said, running his pasty hands through his short, dark hair. "This woman knows about Demetri and Irina. She knows that there are similarities between them and other vampires. She's even talked openly about a possible supernatural element that-"

" _Clearly_ as a joke," Quirina, to Caius's left, objected sharply, having none of this useless speculation nonsense.

Alec shrugged. "What difference does it make? She's pointing out things that strike people as weird and she'd spreading it all over the internet – connections, too, between the vampires and the Quileute people. And it's only been _a few days_. News spread faster than we can react these days. Controlling the flow of information has become all but impossible. What does it matter that she has no clue that she's dealing with vampires and werewolves? The oddities are displayed for all to see and are not simply vaguely weird occurrences talked about by the locals over a campfire. Did you see how many clicks that video got, how many times it's been shared on social media and online press sites? This is garnering a lot of attention, which means she won't stop snooping, which in turn means the authorities will be even more hell-bent on solving the case before the media circus gets too big. That is bad news for us."

"I don't understand the need you feel to make a panic speech," Quirina said, shifting her weight slightly to the right so she could glare at him. "There is no proof that could lead to our secret being uncovered."

"No," Caius said, got up to his feet, and briskly marched to the balcony door so he could look out at the strait, his arms crossed behind his back. "But any attention is unwanted, and if we are not careful, we might end up in the spotlight. With the internet, everything changes. One slip and someone might film us showing our true faces, upload it, and then it'll be on display forever. We must not let that happen. We _cannot_."

"I'll kill the reporter woman and those human adolescents," Jane said flatly.

"You'll do no such thing," Caius replied, after deliberating this option for a moment. He turned around and faced Jane, who was sitting on the couch next to her twin, watching Caius with a deadpan expression on her youthful face. "Demetri is right about one thing: there has been too much death in the area, courtesy of those criminally stupid Cullens. This Cassidy woman has become too high-profile to be disappeared. She starts posting a series of videos dedicated to solving the mystery of the Cullen case, and then suddenly, she's gone? Besides, the damage has been done. If she dies, a million others will show up and simply pick up where she left off. No, we cannot kill her or those adolescents."

Jane just kept looking at him without blinking. There was no need for human pretence. "As you wish."

"What _do_ we do, then?" Alec said, not even trying to mask his exasperation.

After another brief moment of deliberation, Caius adjusted the scarf around his neck, and said, "I'll call Demetri and tell him to wrap it up. It's time we brought this farce to an end and went back home."

"Except this time, it might not be that easy," Alec objected darkly.

"We'll manage," Jane said, her voice as usual betraying no anxiety. "We always do."

"Yes," Caius said, his own voice sounding a little tinny and hollow in his ears. Was it just the onset of thirst throwing off his sensory stability? Probably. This was so, so tiresome and so, so unavoidable. "We always do."

* * *

 **3** _**Wrap it up. Come back here. Bring the half-breed.**_ The words echoed in Demetri's mind as he snapped his phone shut and stuffed it in his trouser pocket. What a night this had been! What a strange number of days, actually. Caius had not outright asked whether Leah was still alive, but he'd of course wanted Demetri to volunteer the information. After so many centuries of working for the same people, it wasn't all that difficult to divine their intentions. With Caius, it was especially easy, since he was the least cryptic of the three Volturi leaders – the most aggressive, too, at least in an obvious way.

It was also obvious to Demetri that something was worrying Caius. He knew that racking his brain over occurrences he couldn't control (that he couldn't even name) was pointless, but shutting off the nagging voice of doubt in the back of his mind was harder than it sounded. If Caius was worried, then something was really, really wrong. It never boded well when a plan unravelled. Death and mayhem were often the consequence, and dealing with that kind of fallout these days wasn't exactly a walk in the park, as the idiom went.

Another thing that had struck him as incredibly odd was Caius's insistence that he bring the dhampir back to Washington alive. It wasn't really Demetri's place to question a direct order from his general, but still, he couldn't help but wonder what the purpose might be. Why on Earth would anyone want to keep the little monster alive, knowing what terrible power she possessed? Wasn't it enough to have one nearly unstoppable half-breed in Volterra, under lock and key? Even that one was, in Demetri's opinion, one too many. Fiora was the most frightening creature he'd ever faced – well, until he'd met Renesmee. But living in the same stronghold as that…that abomination was unsettling enough. Nobody knew what could happen if a second one were brought to Volterra. What if those things could figure out a way to communicate telepathically (they were both thusly gifted), or if they managed to boost each other's strength somehow? Those theories might be far-fetched, but nothing was impossible where dhampirs were concerned.

The most disturbing aspect of this was the fact that Renesmee was only a few months old and was already as strong as Fiora had ever been. What would happen if they let her mature any further? Nobody knew. They _couldn't_ know. Every day that the child lived was a day that all sapient races on the planet were being put at risk. What Demetri really wanted was to call Aro and ask him all the questions rattling around in his brain, but he couldn't simply circumvent the chain of command and go behind Caius's back. No, he needed to do his duty. The elders knew best, and just as was the case with Demetri, their primary concern was the safety of the Volturi coven. They were all family. None of the elders would ever do anything to risk their existences – not even Caius and his perpetual vendetta against all kinds of werewolves there might be.

Unbidden as always, thoughts of his mother surfaced, and he tried to trample them down with limited success. Sometimes, it was useful to be sentimental, to let the vestiges of human emotion strengthen him, guide his decisions, help hone his instincts. At other times, though, sentiment had a way of ruining logic, and that must not happen – not in times like these.

He thought of Leah, of how she hadn't had time to phase and how she'd not hesitated to jump between Rosalie and Charlie. She'd saved Charlie, but at what price? A good and decent person such as Leah did not deserve any of what had happened to her. Good people were, in his experience, hard to come by, and all that he wished for her was a long, peaceful, happy life. Why did some people get everything they wanted, not even really caring about the price they had to pay, about the price _everyone else_ had to pay? Jasper and Bella came to mind – especially Bella.

Leah had told him that Bella had never been a great person to begin with, but that at least she'd had the decency to be horrified at her actions as a vampire at first. Now, she was quickly shedding all remainders of her humanity in her hurry to become the best psychopathic monster she could be. Jasper might be a worse person, but he'd always been like this. That didn't make him better, but it made it easier to handle him. It was admittedly more difficult to understand a person who had once had human emotions such as empathy and guilt, and who was now merrily throwing it all overboard – voluntarily, no less.

Did that stupid bint even realise how incredibly difficult it was to hold on to even a shred of humanity? How hard it was to not lose everything that once had defined someone as a person, after their whole body had been completely rearranged and they didn't even recognise themselves in the mirror anymore? For God's sake, Bella had _chosen_ to be a parasitic, undead monster that nature rejected so completely, a whole new species of supernatural beings had to be created just to counterbalance the mere existence of vampires. She was a truly terrible person – selfish and greedy and callous – and she did not deserve a happy ending.

But life wasn't all cakes and ale, was it, and oftentimes, horrible people got everything and good people got the short end of the stick. It was nearly enough to give into despair, truth be told.

Feeling world-weary and cold and incredibly ancient, he made his way upstairs and into one of the beach house's smaller bedrooms, where Jacob Black was sitting on the bed, his hands tied behind his back. Jasper was there, too, standing by the window, working his power to keep the erstwhile werewolf pack leader compliant. Demetri didn't even think that the restraints were needed anymore, given the fact that Jacob was so much under the influence of what Leah had called Creepula's supernatural heroin, he was hardly even aware of his surroundings. That was one useful gift, one had to give the slimy little git that.

Trying not to let his thoughts dwell on Leah and the consequences of her sacrifice, Demetri stood in the doorframe, arms crossed, and said, "Can he understand me?"

Jasper gave him a smug little smirk. "Sure. He probably won't remember any of this, but he can answer questions, all right. Think of it as a truth serum. He's high as a kite and at one with the universe. He'll answer any question because he can't even understand why he shouldn't be perfectly truthful in his replies."

"All right." Demetri focussed on Jacob. "Jacob, how do you feel about Renesmee Cullen?"

Jacob's eyes flew open. They were bloodshot. His brown skin had an ashen tone to it. The vampire venom was still taking its toll, even though it had been delivered via proxy, which always lessened the effect. The discomfort must be considerable. No-one deserved to go through this kind of pain. "She's the most precious, most important thing in the universe, my Nessie. Once I get free, I'll kill all of you assholes for daring to touch her."

"I believe that answers the question whether either the venom or Charlie's little neck-snapping action doubled as a miracle cure," Jasper said, sounding so mockingly despondent, Demetri again felt like socking him in the teeth. For crying out loud, could this…this…oh, could this sorry wanker not take _anything_ seriously?

"If Jacob can't be cured, then he'll have to die," he said, his voice trembling a little.

Jasper shrugged. "Would it help you if I pretended that I care? I don't think so." He waited for a reply, but Demetri was too busy fuming quietly. "How about the demon-spawn?"

"She woke up about an hour ago, but could neither move not speak thanks to the restraints," Demetri said in clipped tones. "Bella broke her neck again."

Making a pained face, Jasper shook his head. "That's got to sting."

"We'll have to leave soon. Your friend Maria will have to deal with the clean-up procedures by herself. I trust that she is competent enough to do it properly." He turned around on his heel and made to leave, but Jasper called him back. "What is it?"

"How's Chief Swan coping?"

"He's taken a shower and a sedative, and now he's sleeping soundly. Bella changed his bandage. The gash on his forehead is healing nicely, but there'll probably be a scar."

Jasper whistled lowly. "Why don't you just get it over with and either kill him or turn him? What will drawing the decision out do? It won't do any _good_ , that's for sure."

"I have my reasons." He did not turn around.

Jasper chuckled derisively. "Oh, of course. Saint Leah Clearwater strikes again, even after getting broken in half by a crazed vampire and being unable to do anything anymore."

After contemplating multiple nasty replies and even the option of simply ripping the bastard's head off, Demetri bit his tongue and walked away. Sometimes, it made more sense to just let it go. There were people who simply weren't worth getting upset over.

* * *

 **4** **Going into that terrible cell was less disturbing than the last time had been** , even though Irina was immediately assaulted by desperate cries (shrieks) for mercy and freedom in her mind. At least she didn't see the image of Vasilii anymore, but Fiora as she truly was: emaciated, pitiful, powerless. It was a gutting feeling, seeing a person chained up like this, her bodily autonomy and agency taken away from her as if her life were worth nothing.

Were these Irina's own thoughts or the girl's? It would make sense for Fiora to try and elicit-

Inwardly, Irina sighed and told herself to cut the crap. No, this was all her. The girl was not responsible for Irina's discomfort, pity, or guilt over being complicit in another person's horrible imprisonment. She took one look into those huge, desperate, dark-brown eyes, said, "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to harm you. I want to help you. Pray that it works," and advanced on her.

It was the strangest feeling, attacking a helpless, half-dead person like this, but she had little choice. Her fangs cut through the tough skin after some resistance, but then, warm blood that tasted repulsively like soap and perfume gushed into her mouth. Fiora jerked violently, hitting her head against the thick stone wall behind her. Irina backed off in a flash, spat, wiped her mouth, stumbled out of the cell. She would have crashed down if Aro hadn't caught her. Inside the cell, poor Fiora was being shaken by awful spasms. Her eyes rolled back, spittle flew from her chapped lips. She opened her mouth as if to scream. Her face was a contorted mask of pure agony.

"We should give the poor thing a moment to collect itself," Aro said, and slammed the heavy door shut rather viciously, before locking it tightly again. He spun around to the shaky Irina, beaming. "Well done, my dear! Now, all we can do is wait and cross our fingers, hoping that the experiment works!"

She tugged down on her blouse, straightened out her hair, and said, "What's going to happen to her if it does?"

The look on his face shifted from gleeful to thoughtful, though there still was that ever-present spark of amusement in his deeply red eyes. "Interesting question. You ask about her fate before inquiring about yours."

For some reason, this made her chuckle dryly, even though there was nothing even remotely entertaining about the whole situation. "I'm not that selfless, you know. I realise that whatever happens – success or failure – I'll be spending the remainder of my days here."

"None of our fates are sealed," he said, scrutinising her with a mix of curiosity and…what was that? Pity? Empathy? It was something along those lines, anyway. "Imagine if this works, and Fiora's power can be kept in check. Maybe your natural resistance could be helpful to other dhampirs and their victims. Maybe in the future, nobody will have to be summarily executed just because they were born the wrong kind of monster…or because they were simply at the wrong place, at the worst possible time. Even if it doesn't work, even if none of our hypotheses turn out to be correct, you are not contagious. If you can't help me in my mission to cure the world of the blight that are these half-breeds, then why would I keep you here?" The corners of his mouth curved up ever so slightly. "I know what you think of me, dear girl, but I assure you, I am not a monster. If my actions seem cruel, that is because cruelty can't always be avoided. It would please me to no end if it weren't so, but this is the world we live in, and in this world, sometimes violence becomes necessary in defence of the innocent."

It took her a while to find the right words. At length, she managed to return his warm expression; this time, it didn't even cost her any effort. "Then let us hope that this experiment turns out to be the only one we need."

* * *

 **5** **Watching over both her temporarily dead daughter and her soundly sleeping father was a relatively boring task,** and so Bella turned on the television set that had been mounted on the wall of the small-ish bedroom. She didn't speak any Spanish despite having grown up in Arizona, but that didn't matter, because the owners of this lovely home had cable, and therefore, Bella had access to American channels.

"…these online bloggers should really check their facts before spreading misinformation," a good-looking, full-figured and grey-haired, elderly black woman in a sharp suit was explaining to a young, white, skinny male reporter. The text at the bottom of the screen identified the woman as a lead FBI investigator for the Cullen case. "Ms. Cassidy has posted her videos without consulting with us, first. Now, the damage has been done." The FBI lady looked straight at the camera, her expression serious. "If the public has any information pertaining to this case, including the whereabouts of Charles Swan, please call the designated hotline. We-"

Bella shut the TV off and stared at the dark screen for a moment. The FBI was investigating the Cullens? But why? What for? And how had they even found them, given that the Cullen family had always been so discreet, had always blended in so well with their human surroundings? Bella didn't understand how this could be possible. What she did understand, however, was that this meant trouble for all of them. If the Feds dug too deep, they might find out more than they had bargained for. Of course they would never discover the existence of vampires, and even if, vampires were indestructible and basically gods, so what could the humans really do to them?

However, the Volturi, who were the highest vampire authority, implemented their secrecy rule with an iron fist. What would happen if the humans found out about the existence of the supernatural? What if someone happened to film a vampire being a vampire or a werewolf being a werewolf and, through sheer luck, managed to spread that footage online? What consequences would that have for all of them? Well, the Quileute wolves would definitely bite it. The vampires were safe. They were invincible. There was nothing that could touch them. Also, if word got out and anyone made a connection to the happenings in Tijuana, then it would be the wolves' fault, not the vampires' – specifically, not Bella's. All she'd done was play by the rules…

…yes, okay, there had been the slip-ups with the human campers, but that had nothing to do with anything. She'd only been following her nature, and humans _were_ her prey. There was nothing wrong with that, and it had nothing to do with the FBI or the media. No, that was all due to the Quileute wolves making such a fuss over Bella being turned. It was their fault. Everything was their fault.

Still, it might be prudent to inform the others that the deaths in and around Forks were being investigated by the FBI, and that an online blogger by the name of Cassidy was all over that which must not be uncovered.

Maybe it was time to go home and clean house.

* * *

 **6** **"So you're** _ **positive**_ **you saw several of these Cullen types drive up to La Push and then drive away with Leah Clearwater in tow?"** It was a redundant question, admittedly, but being a reporter required making absolutely sure, and this story was just _fantastic_.

International crime families, conspiracies, murder and mayhem, financial fraud, mysterious diseases, and so much more! Over the past week, the traffic on June Cassidy's website had quadrupled, and now she had over three million subscribers worldwide (three million!), with more and more people joining every day. This wasn't all about success online, though. The story was genuinely intriguing, and helping the authorities bring those (probably) murderers to justice – or at least helping them find out the truth about what the hell was going on – was its own reward. She wasn't the type that would do anything for a good story, but if she wanted to make it as a vlogger, she needed to be able to offer people what they wanted, and that required hard work and due diligence.

In her twenty-eight years of life, she'd never stumbled on such a great story, and she was determined not to let it go until she'd uncovered the truth. Her contact at the FBI had told her that he needed to keep a low profile for a while, since he didn't exactly relish the thought of being caught as the leak, but that was okay. Right now, June had all she needed. She was right where the action was, finding connections no-one had so far. More and more news stations were pouring into the little town of Forks, trying to get a piece of the action, but June was one step ahead of them up to now. She was determined to keep it that way.

On the other side of the line, the man who'd called her said, " _I'm absolutely sure. It was a guy, three women, two teenagers, that Darcy dude, Jasper Hale, and the Swan girl…only I'm not too sure about the last one. It looked like her, sort of, but it's like she got plastic surgery or something_. _There was something very wrong with her face._ "

That would make sense. The Cullens had most likely found out that their jig was up and had been forced to take extreme and drastic measures. To June, it seemed probable that they had burned their own house down. The fact that they all sort of looked alike was most probably due to plastic surgery. It was a crazy and convoluted theory, but it also made sense. People in witness protection often got their faces changed. Why shouldn't criminals? Perhaps Matthew Darcy and his pals had been betrayed by the Cullen branch of their operation, and thus the Cullens had faked their own deaths. Maybe the Cullens had duped the La Push people somehow, which would explain Leah Clearwater's involvement. She'd studied economics at college, hadn't she? A clear picture was beginning to form. This was all so exciting!

"Any ideas what they might've been doing in La Push?" Couldn't hurt to ask, right?

" _Nope, but whatever it was, it couldn't have been good. The Cullen castle gets burned to the ground, and only one – possibly two – of them make it out alive? We all know how much the Quileute hated those arrogant asses. Something's up. If you ask me, I think they're hunting the Cullens. It has to be about money. In the end, it's always about money_."

Not always, but most of the time, yeah, pretty much. "Thanks a lot for all your helpful information, sir. Are you sure you don't want me to quote-"

" _No. I don't want to get involved with the FBI, thank you very much, but people deserve to know_." With that, Mister Anonymous hung up.

Okay, then. It was fine by her. A little shaky with excitement, she slipped into her trademark (and much worn, much beloved) yellow jacket, packed her phone, her camera, and her taser (one could never know) into her purse, and left the motel in a hurry. She had a date with the people of La Push, even if they didn't know it yet. This really was the story of a century, and her subscribers deserved to be kept in the loop. June was not going to disappoint them or herself.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** There's a reference to the 1988 movie Child's Play in this. Also, for anyone wondering why Bella is so awful, I am treating her like SMeyer did: as her self-insert. If you know what SMeyer said in defense of her vampires being murderous and getting away with it, you'll understand the reference. If not...yeah, this is stuff the woman actually spouted (albeit paraphrased), and no, it's not out of context. Any spitefic worth its salt has to mention it at least once, and let's be honest, it's very in character for Bell-Bell. As always, thank you for reading. I hope you continue to be entertained!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six**

 **1** **It was about ten in the morning when June Cassidy arrived at the Quileute reservation in her trusted old Beetle.** The sky was blue and a pale sun shone, but it was dismally cold. She parked her flower-sticker-adorned little car at Front Street, close to the bus stop, and scrambled out onto the sidewalk wishing she'd opted for wearing a scarf. A sharp, icy breeze was coming in from the ocean. The air smelled briny. Humidity weighed on her shoulders like a sack of bricks. She took a deep, deep breath and shook back some of her carefully arranged, carroty hair. It was always nice to be close to the beach, cold or no cold.

Looking about herself, she found it a bit odd (and _off_ ) how deserted the place seemed. Well, it _was_ a workday, and the kids should all be at school, so…yeah, no need to be paranoid. Armed with her purse, she decided to take a look about and gather some first impressions. It was a small, quiet place. The street was flanked by white-ish, wooden bungalows, in front of which stood mostly jeeps. On her way here, she'd passed the picturesque Quileute Oceanside Resort. The beach proper was only a block away.

It might take some time until she found a local, and even more until she found a local who was willing to talk to her. Okay, then. Time to take out the camera and start snapping some pics. She regretted not having woken up Jerry, her trusted cameraman and editor, but she'd be able to handle this on her own, and he'd been in the dire need for some rest. For now, she'd limit herself to taking some nice pics and scouting out the area. Maybe she'd pass by the Coast Guard, ask them a few questions. Who knew? She might even get lucky and-

"What are you doing here, lady?"

She spun around and found herself face to face with a very tall, rather bulky young man, who wasn't just apparently a ninja, but also a master of the disapproving scowl. "Oh, good morning! My name's June Cassidy, and I'm an online reporter. I was hoping-"

"I know who you are," the young man replied, and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dark-blue corduroy jacket. He had short-ish, straight, very dark hair that kept falling in his sharp-angled, tan face. He also didn't look like he was in any mood for chit-chat. "You won't find what you're looking for here. Get in your car and drive away."

She arched her carefully plucked eyebrows, straightened her posture, crossed her arms, and said, "Excuse _me_ , kid, but you have no right to dictate where I can or can't-"

He advanced on her, making her take two little steps backward. "Go away. You won't find what you're looking for here."

Even though her heart picked up the pace and she felt a little queasy, she nearly told him to go shove it. But this was a guy twice her size and not even half as friendly, and there was no-one else around. Tasering the locals should always be a last resort, too. " _Fine_. I'll leave. No need to get all worked up." Stiffly, she stomped to her Beetle, got inside, slammed the door shut, started the engine, and drove off. Her hands were shaking and she was seeing stars. Should she even be driving like this? Well, what she needed even less was this hoodlum flipping out and wiping the floor with her.

Despite the unwanted adrenaline rush, she couldn't help but think that she really was onto something big – something huge, in fact. It had to be something even bigger than she had ever hoped to dream.

* * *

 **2** **"It doesn't matter whose fault it is,** _ **Bella**_ **. The damage has been done.** The public eye is fixed on Forks and on La Push, and we all need to tread extra carefully, now," Demetri said, trying very hard not to sound annoyed as he said the same thing for what seemed to be the millionth time.

They were downstairs in the big living room: himself, Bella, and Jasper. Jacob was tied up and unconscious, Renesmee was tied up and (temporarily) dead, and Charlie was simply sleeping. Demetri could hear him snoring peacefully. Maria was out there doing what she did best: damage control. Two of her underlings were outside, watching the place. The sun had gone up a few hours ago. It was sunny, but the air was cold. Forgoing useless notions of pride, Demetri had stocked the lavish (and rather tacky) marble fireplace and lit a nice, cosy fire. The other vampires clearly didn't care either way.

Standing right in front of said fireplace and enjoying the heat, the merry sound of the firewood crackling and the smoky smell, Demetri crossed his arms, and said, "We need to wrap our operation up and re-join Caius in Port Angeles, but we need to be as stealth about it as possible."

"That may be difficult, especially if you're unwilling to dispose of our loose ends," Jasper drawled. He was lounging on the couch as if he hadn't a care in the world, Bella by his side.

"We are not _disposing_ of anyone, so stop suggesting it," Demetri replied, more weary than angry. "I'd say we leave as soon as possible-"

"And when would that be?" Bella rudely cut in, impassive, as if none of this concerned her. In her mind, it clearly didn't, given the little 'it's all the wolves' fault' speech she'd given a few minutes ago. "We could all leave right now, if it weren't for the Leah situation."

This was enough to make Demetri want to chuck a burning log of wood at her head. Good God, she was _cold!_ This had only got worse during the past few days. "And lugging around the bound and gagged body of a child won't raise any red flags in case we get caught?"

"We won't get caught," Jasper said, all smug smirks and nonchalant shrugs. "I'll see to that."

"Unless there are security cameras that get us on film. It's kind of hard to emotionally manipulate footage."

Jasper's eyebrows shot up. "There's no need to get tetchy, bud. We wouldn't need to gag and bind her or Jacob, and we wouldn't need to stop for rest if-"

" _You don't know that!_ " Demetri snapped, and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. "I apologise. However, my point still stands. Your powers have no effect on the dhampir, and we don't know if breaking her neck over and over will continue having the same positive effect. Her body is still maturing right in front of us, and it stands to reason to assume that her mind is, too. What if she wakes up suddenly and we are not prepared? She is more powerful than anything I've ever seen, and I have seen beings more powerful than any of you have."

"We'll manage," Jasper said, unfazed. "Thing is, the longer we stay here, the greater the risk of exposure grows. How long until the Feds back home – or that plucky reporter gal – make a connection to Tijuana? How long until someone remembers seeing you or me or the lovely Miss Swan traipsing around the reservation?" Again, he shrugged. "How long until an APB is put out on us and our rental? We have to _move_ , Demetri."

He was so, _so_ bloody tired of everything. "I know. I _know_. Give me an hour to decide." Without waiting for a reply, he walked away, out of the living room, up the spiral staircase, and into the master suite. Resisting the silly urge to sigh, he sat down at the edge of the huge, king-sized bed and looked thoughtfully down at the barely conscious Leah Clearwater. "How are you feeling?"

"I never thought I'd say this to a vampire," she said, her voice hardly above a raspy whisper, and tried to smirk, "but I'm gonna need some help getting from here to the bathroom." Her complexion was ashen, her eyes sunken in and bloodshot.

The huge, gaping wound in her torso had nearly been the death of her; for a while, he'd been sure that she wouldn't be able to heal herself. However, this woman was as tough as nails. She would survive, but only if she were allowed to rest properly. If they were to move her too soon, the wound might break open again, and that would probably be more than even her body could handle.

"That can be arranged," he said, and nodded slowly. "We have to leave soon, but…" How to finish that thought sensitively? He had no idea how, and scaring her wasn't a viable option.

"But you don't want to move me." She grimaced and coughed dryly, eyes shut closely. Tears squeezed through her thick, dark eyelashes.

Promptly, he picked up the glass of water on the nightstand and helped her take a few sips, before putting it back again. "I'd rather wait for another few days. A little movement isn't bad, but hours upon hours on the road? I wouldn't recommend it."

"If we got to go, we got to go." She cleared her throat and grimaced, obviously in pain. "Did you kill the demon-spawn?"

He shook his head. "I've been told to bring her to Port Angeles."

Her eyes went wide. "That _fucking_ albino."

Briefly, he wondered why she didn't tell him to simply disobey his orders, but he was thankful that she didn't. Perhaps she was getting to know him well enough to realise that he couldn't do that.

"I don't think it's a good idea, either," he said quietly.

For a moment, they just stayed like that, in silence, looking at each other.

Oh, this was so wretched. The ultimatum that Caius had given him simply wouldn't leave his mind. Back at the hotel, he'd had the perfect opportunity to get rid of her, and nobody would have objected. The problem would have solved itself, so to speak, but he didn't allow events to unfold. He'd interfered, making it possible for her body to start its healing process. What did this tell him? That he wouldn't be able to do it. Caius was right about one thing: Demetri was too sentimental to commit coldblooded murder, especially of a person he'd grown to respect, even admire. Even if they _hadn't_ bonded, she had done nothing but try to preserve life and protect people. What had been Leah's crime, exactly? Becoming a werewolf had not been her choice. She'd only ever defended herself and her loved ones, which was what the Volturi did, too. She didn't deserve to die, and he now knew that he was not capable of killing her…not even to save the lives of her kin. What kind of an awful monster did that make him? Whatever the answer was, he was positive that he wasn't going to like it.

That was when she whispered, "Oh, boy. Why don't you just tell me what's eating you before it makes your marble head explode?"

He blinked at her in confusion, but then snickered, sheepishly looked away, and scratched his neck – a physically needless gesture. Pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his freezing hands, he said, "There's no fooling you, is there?"

"Nope. I'm just that awesome."

"Okay," he said, and took a deep breath in order to collect himself. It was a brainless, redundant, useless habit, but he liked the fact that it almost made him feel human again. Forcing himself to face her and to just rip off the metaphorical bandage, he added, "Caius, my superior, gave me an ultimatum because he thinks that I've gone traitor and am now conspiring with your kind against our own. He told me that I had a choice: either I kill you, or he kills your entire tribe." Wow. It was out. There was no taking back these words, make them unsaid, un _done_. It felt both like a huge relief and like he'd just dislodged the one pebble that would result in a civilisation-crushing avalanche. How strange. How very, very strange.

For a good long while, she just stared at him, her eyes huge in her haggard face, before she cleared her throat and swallowed. "O…kay. I guess you voted for option two, since I'm still breathing and all."

" _No._ " He pressed his lips together, counted to three in his head, collected himself. "No. It's clear to me that I can't kill you; I just _can't_. But I can't stand by and watch him commit genocide, either. That's not who I am, and it most certainly is not what my coven stands for. Whatever happens, I will shoulder the responsibility for this disaster. I'll do what I can to protect your people. They're innocent, and I can't stand for the slaughter of innocents. I don't know how I can stop this, but I will; I'll think of something. That's a promise."

Again, she just stared at him for a moment. Then, her eyes reddened even more and tears pooled in their corners. She looked away, sniffled, chuckled awkwardly. When she met his eyes again, she was smiling grimly. "Well then," she croaked, reached out, and took his cold hand into her feverish one, "we'll just have to think of something together, won't we?"

For a second, he wished that he could cry, too. Then, he told himself to stop whining like a toddler, and gave her strong hand a very gentle squeeze, saying, "Yes, we will."

* * *

 **3** **This time, when Aro left Irina to take care of emperor business** (and he'd found the wording in her mind rather funny, he told her), she wasn't simply left in her guest room. No, this time, Chelsea dropped by and offered to take her to lunch. It had been a few days since Irina had fed (oh God, those fifteen campers and Jasper and Bella and the fire all dead so much death destruction horror dead people murder she was a murderer), and she was starting to feel the slightest bit fidgety. Actual symptoms would only start appearing a couple of days from then and would get really hard to bear a week afterwards. A mature vampire needed a lot of blood to sate their thirst, but at least it lasted a good long while until they needed to refuel.

"…and so it is of vital importance that you neither bite them, nor drink too much of their blood. Otherwise, we won't be able to return them safely, and missing tourists _always_ attract attention," Chelsea was saying, as she led Irina down the umpteenth stone corridor at a brisk pace, the heels of her black pumps clacking loudly on the floor. The sound bounced off the wall, announcing their arrival to everyone around long before they got anywhere. "I know it's hard to even smell blood and not pop the fangs, let alone taste it, but you're a thousand years old and a smart cookie. I have absolute confidence in you."

"Thank you," Irina said simply, feeling a little light-headed. What if she _did_ fail? Her track record of controlling herself when feeding on living human blood wasn't all that stellar. She'd fallen off the wagon a number of times, which was the reason why she'd opted for the repulsive animal diet and its terrible effects on vampiric cognitive skills. Being a parasite was one thing. That she could not control. Being a murderer, though? That was a different matter entirely. So many people had died because she had not been able to curb her desires. How much had every single death affected the future of humanity? There was no telling. All that lost potential weighed heavily on her shoulders. It weighed on the shoulders of every person who'd ever taken a life. Yes, a vampire's nature was to kill humans, but vampires were not mindless drones. They were sapient creatures, aware of their own existence and aware of the pain and suffering of those they hunted. Wasn't it their duty to try to rise above their natures? Wasn't it their duty to make sure their instincts and their intellects were in sync? The humans did it all the time. They were animals with million-year-old evolutionary imperatives in their genes, and yet, they mostly managed to overcome the baser aspects of their natures. No, genetic imperatives were not an excuse for murder. They never had been.

After they turned yet another corner, they found themselves in front of a pretty inconspicuous wooden door – a door that was being guarded by two muscular, no-nonsense-looking vampire women clad in practical grey uniforms. Both stepped aside when Chelsea and Irina approached.

"You'll do fine, sweetheart," Chelsea said, sounding genuinely friendly and sympathetic. She touched Irina's shoulder and smiled, before adding, "Shall we?"

Irina only nodded curtly.

Chelsea opened the door and stepped through it energetically.

Somewhat wary, Irina followed. The first thing that hit her senses was the mouth-watering smell of warm, living blood being pumped through human veins. Then, the sound of heartbeats followed. Her throat erupted into flames, and she had to clench her fists and gnash her teeth together whilst pouring every ounce of her self-control into not letting the fangs come out.

That was when she actually saw the room. It was…it was…

…a day spa?

Wait, _what_?

At least that was what it looked like. The lighting was yellow and soft. There were beds, on which humans were getting massages from vampires. There were couches and armchairs. Some humans were getting a manicure. Others were bathing their feet. A huge hot tub stood at the far end, and a group of humans in bathing suits was lounging in it, chattering happily. Two human women in bathrobes and with towels wrapped around their heads like turbans ambled by. They smiled at Irina out of green-goop-covered faces. One of them was holding a glass with a green liquid in it, out of which a celery stick poked.

What the hell?

Chelsea stopped walking, turned around, saw what must be a look of pure bewilderment on Irina's face, and cracked a toothy smile. "I'm glad I got to be the one to show you all this before my trip. Now you understand why I didn't explain how we entertain our guests during their short stay. It mocks every description."

"You can say that again," Irina said tonelessly. " _Wow_."

"You should see what this place looked like during the Middle Ages," Chelsea said, took Irina by the wrist, and started towing her along. "We offered people prophylactic treatments against all sorts of things, including the plague."

"But" – Irina pointed at a guy and a woman chatting lively with a very attractive female vampire in a smart two-piece that accentuated her full figure – "how do you make them feel so relaxed if you…you know…"

"Feed on them? Oh, they won't remember any of this. They'll have false memories filling the gap of the few hours we have them, and feel both very contented and a little weary – no worse for wear, though."

That was when the penny dropped. "Ah. Interesting power."

Chelsea crinkled her nose. "Isn't it? The logistics of feeding discreetly were more complicated before we acquired Heidi, but then again, we were fewer in number in those days. It's not just her power, though; it's a combination of hers, of Aro's, of mine, and two others. We believe in team-work down here. It's the only way we can keep living in our stronghold permanently without drawing any attention to ourselves." She led Irina to the voluptuous woman in the dark-red two-piece, who was now standing by herself, peering at a notebook in her hands. "Heidi, my dear, I'd like to introduce you to Irina, our new arrival. She's a bit thirsty."

"It's so nice to meet you!" Heidi chirped, smiling brightly at Irina. She was relatively tall, dark-blonde, and had a beautiful face, all dimples and full lips and long eyelashes. "How do you like our charming little home?"

"I think it's impressive," Irina said, trying to return the friendly expression, but being a bit too baffled to manage. "So…do you feed on them _here_?"

"Little adjacent room," Chelsea said, pointing at a white door at the far end of the hall. "There's always an influx of people, and there's always thirsty vampires. Customers trickle in and out, nobody notices, nobody cares. It's a system that is pretty complicated, sure, but it has served us well thus far. It's not like we can herd them in here by the busload and then murder them. Powers or no, we'd be found out sooner rather than later, and that might end up being the death of all of us. Naturally, we'll go through great lengths to prevent such a catastrophe from happening."

That made a whole lot of sense, convoluted as it sounded.

"That's what you get for being sedentary," Heidi said, and laughed softly. She was naturally charming – nowhere near as much as Aro, but probably enough to dazzle the tourists. Her memory-altering power though was her real trump card and no mistake. "As a nomad, your life is less comfortable, but feeding is a lot simpler."

"It's even easier if you kill your prey," Irina said, and tried to ignore the increasing pain in her poor, dried-out throat. "My sisters and I survived on animal blood for a long time."

Both Chelsea and Heidi grimaced at that. "Sounds terrible," the latter said, obviously sympathetic.

"It is," Irina confirmed flatly. "It also makes you dumb and slow. So…when could I…" She gripped her throat with her right hand. This was _agony!_ It was getting more intolerable by the second.

"Right now, you poor, starved thing," Heidi said cheerily, took Irina by the elbow, and started steering her toward the back of the hall. "You'll feel better in a moment."

Irina listened to all the different heartbeats. Her throat was in flames, despite the fact that she wasn't breathing. There was no failing. She was not going to be responsible for any more death and misery ever again.

* * *

 **4** **The pain was manageable and the nausea bearable,** but Jacob simply couldn't rid himself of the syrupy compliance forced on him courtesy of that asshole Creepula. They'd bound Jacob and plopped him on a bed, relying on the vampire venom (and what the _hell_ , Bella? Christ!) and Creepula's powers to keep him subdued. They were right to rely on that, weren't they? There was no freeing oneself out of that unholy combo.

Jacob kept dozing off, but every time he woke, all he could think about was Nessie. Where was she? What had they done to her? She just had to be so frightened, the poor thing. All he wanted was to hold her, protect her, get her away from all these awful monsters who wanted her all to themselves. But things being as they were, he was not going to go anywhere in the near future – maybe never again. He had to admit that was completely useless like this, lying on this stupid bed, paralysed and sedated with supernatural opium. Goddamn.

His thoughts started to get woozy again, and he was about to drift off, when something yanked him back with hooks of steel. It was like a slap in the face, a bucket of cold water on his head, a punch in the gut.

It was a voice in his head – not just a voice. It was _the_ voice. Her.

Nessie.

 _Jacob. My Jacob._ Her sweet, beloved voice was in his head, grabbing his mind mercilessly, dragging it out of its stupor with merciless force. It felt like being pulled naked over a field of broken glass. There was a metallic undertone to the sound, always that undertone – demanding, cold, alien.

Still, this was her. She was his Nessie. She was the most important person in the universe. She might as well be the only one, too.

 _Honey_ , he thought, fighting, flinching, trying to ignore how badly his stomach was roiling.

 _They hurt me, Jacob. They betrayed me and they hurt me. You need to save me. You need to protect me and love me. You need to kill them all._

His heart beat faster. Sweat broke out on his face, dripped down his nose and chin. He was panting. Still, his efforts to move remained fruitless. _I would, baby, but I can't. Your mom…_ He didn't want Nessie to hear him think obscenities, especially not towards Bella.

 _She betrayed me. She needs to die. They all need to die._

Hearing her sweet child's voice saying these things was weirdly painful, like needles being drilled into his skull, and he had to fight not to groan. Gnashing his teeth together and balling his hands into fists, he thought, _I'll do it, honey. I'll do whatever you want. But I don't know how-_

 _You need to kill them! YOU NEED TO KILL THEM ALL KILL THEM RIP THEM APART TEAR THEM UP THEIR SCREAMS THEIR BLOOD THEIR LIVES I WANT THEM WANT THEM NOW KILL THEM!_

He convulsed, bit his tongue, tasted blood. It ran from his nose his ears his eyes, sticky and hot, and dripped down his lips his cheeks his chin his throat his chest oh God. _Nessie, please calm down, calm down, you're gonna fry my brain please please please I love you please stop!_ For a moment, there was no reply, but not really silence, either. It was as if his brain were filled with a mix of high-pitched warbling and rumbling static. His eyes were watering, his heart thundering. His whole body trembled.

 _I'll help you_ , Nessie's voice finally piped up, flat and cold and blissfully emotionless. _I will fix you, and then you will do as I say and kill them all_.

 _I will, honey_ , he hurried in thinking, eager and relieved and so, so over all of the crap that Bella and her posse were pulling on him and his girl. _I'll do whatever you want. I'll be whoever you need me to be – always. Forever. Until the day I die and beyond._

 _I know,_ she thought back. _I know you will not disappoint me._

* * *

 **5** **Bella was standing in the kitchen and looking out at the beach house's back yard without really registering anything that she was seeing.** Her throat was itching and her mind kept turning back to the crisp and clear memories of her last meal. Oh, it had been so glorious! How they'd ripped through that camp, how the blood had tasted of salt and iron and sweet release, how beautiful and sharp the world had become, how fascinating it had been to watch Jasper burning the remains of the drained humans. This was something that had always rendered her a drooling moron when she'd still been human: the grace and beauty of all vampires. No, this existence wasn't what she'd pictured, but ever since she'd decided to just give into the dictates of her nature, everything had become so much easier. After all, she was an apex predator and above good and evil. Who were humans and wolves to judge her? Even if they _did_ judge her, she was unbeatable.

Jasper was right. There was nothing wrong with being a monster by behaviour if one was already a monster by design.

She looked blankly ahead and listened to the sounds everyone else in the house was making. Renesmee was still dead, Charlie was snoring and his heart beating steadily (the sound of it made the itching in her throat worse), Jacob was clearly thrashing in pain, Demetri and Leah were talking quietly about their options, Maria's vampiric bodyguards were around the house, and Jasper was standing in the doorframe.

"He should've let her die," she said flatly. "Leah. Why is she still alive? Saving her was stupid."

In a flash, Jasper was standing right next to her. "He can hear you, you know."

"I don't care. It was stupid. She was gonna die. She still might. The Caius problem would've solved itself. Interfering was stupid. It made things more complicated for all of us."

"It is what it is," he said, and suddenly, he was grabbing her by the shoulders and pressing his lips to her right ear. "So we make it _less_ complicated for all of us." His voice was a barely audible whisper.

"What do you mean?" She did little more than mouth the words, not wanting anyone else to understand her.

"I mean," he said, and gave her shoulders a squeeze, "that we take care of Demetri's little moral dilemma for him and solve all of our problems to everyone's advantage. Well, almost everyone's."

"You have a plan."

"I do," he whispered, and she could all but hear the smile in his voice. "I always have a plan, sweetheart."

* * *

 **6** **It was nearly noon when Charlie Swan woke up again.** Demetri knew before Charlie knew, actually; Charlie's heart started beating faster, his temperature rose, and his breathing quickened. Not wanting to be creepy, Demetri knocked on the closed bedroom door and waited for Charlie to rasp a sleepy, "Yeah," before going inside hesitantly.

"How are you feeling?"

Charlie scrambled up into a sitting position, unsuccessfully tried to sort out his dishevelled dark hair, scratched the stubble covering his cheeks, and yawned. "Better than yesterday, but I still got to wake up into a reality where my only daughter's turned into a marble parasite who eats people and who gave birth to a monster." He cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes. "Don't listen to me, kid. Just didn't get a chance to whine at anyone ever since this all of this crap started."

"You're not whining," Demetri said, and narrowed his eyes in order to be better able to visually examine the cut on Charlie's head. It wasn't infected. "It's a lot to take in."

"I might be slow on the uptake, but I pride myself on not being a complete moron," Charlie said, threw back the covers, and carefully planted his bare feet on the thick, fluffy white carpet. "You're one of those things, but you seem like a decent person to me."

"I'm sorry I lied to you about my identity and my backstory, but the deception was necessary, and I was honest about my intentions."

"Yeah, yeah, need to know and all that. I get it," Charlie said, and waved off. "What's your real name?"

"Demetri."

"You're a friend of Leah Clearwater's." It wasn't a question.

"I am." It felt good, saying this, because it was the truth.

"Then you can't be all bad, vampire or no." Slowly and with hesitation, Charlie pushed himself up to his feet and tugged on the clothes he'd got out of the master suite's big closet. Catching Demetri's eye, he said, "Not a sweatpants kind of guy, I'm afraid," smiling wryly. "How's Leah? I got that she didn't die before I conked out, but the Hale girl's fist through her chest…" He flinched.

"Leah is recovering. I just changed her bandage."

"Good; that's good," Charlie said, nodded slowly, and crossed his arms. "So, uh…where's Chucky?"

Thankfully, this was a pop culture reference that Demetri understood at once. "Lying in the smallest bedroom with a broken neck."

Charlie made a face. "Yeah, I figured breaking that thing's neck wasn't going to permanently off it, but it was worth a try." He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes with the heels of his hands. "I snapped a little kid's neck – kid that's my granddaughter. And here I am, wishing she'd died for good. Not to start whining again, but looking at that little monster and at what my daughter did to herself, I can't help but wonder if Renée and I aren't to blame."

"Your daughter's choices are hers alone. You are not responsible."

"No, but I can't completely wash my hands there, either. I always enabled her selfish tendencies by giving into her tantrums because I didn't want to spoil what little time I had with her. Renée did the same for different reasons. We didn't make her mistakes for her, but we certainly didn't help." Charlie shrugged. "Doesn't even matter, right? Placing blame in retrospect is useless. We all got twenty-twenty hindsight. What matters more is knowing where you plan to take us from here." He looked at Demetri squarely.

"Well, with your permission, sir, Leah and I were planning to-" That was when he heard it: feet running upstairs, air being displaced. A loud clang. _Oh, no_.

Charlie jumped, his hand shooting to his hip where his gun wasn't. " _Damn_ it!"

" _Stay here!_ " Demetri was out of the room in a flash, down the hall, into the room where the noise was coming from. He was too late, though.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: There are references to Lovecraft's work, the Terminator, My Little Pony, and He-Man in this chapter. **

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

 **1** **June woke up Jerry, her cameraman and editor, by knocking crisply on his motel room door.** When he opened the door with a sour look on his pillow-marked face, his dark and curly hair all over the place, she held up the I'm-sorry-here's-my-peace-offering Styrofoam coffee cups and bag with cinnamon rolls, smiling brightly.

He grumbled something incoherent and let her inside. His way too huge pyjama pants swished over the carpeted floor. The t-shirt he was wearing was so gigantic, it made him look even more scrawny than he already was. He didn't like to feel confined in his sleep, he once told her when she observed that he looked like a kid who'd stolen daddy's jogging outfit in those things.

Five minutes later, they were sitting at the small-ish table, having their unhealthy but pretty awesome breakfast.

She granted him a few sips of his sugary, creamy coffee before starting her assault. "I went to the Quileute reservation early this morning."

He raised his thin eyebrows at her, scrutinised her with his usual woman-you-annoy-me scowl, and swallowed down a mouthful of cinnamon roll, before mumbling, "That's proof. This. You're a Terminator. They never let anything go, either…or sleep. Another thing your kind cannot comprehend, along with the human emotion we call love."

"I do sleep. I just don't hibernate like you do," she replied sunnily. "Be thankful I didn't drag you along, Mister Lopes. You're a lot better at filming stuff than I am, and I am undaunted by your eternal grumpiness."

"Not a morning person," he said, clearly faking the grouchiness like he always did, and took another sip of coffee, before tugging down on the sleeves of the dark-blue sweater he'd put on before settling down. "Get anything juicy?"

"Not a chance. Got chased off the land," she said, closing her well-manicured hands around her own Styrofoam cup carrying black, unsweetened coffee. Unlike Jerry, she didn't really have a sweet tooth.

He forgot to be cantankerous for a moment and stared at her out of huge, dark-brown eyes. " _Excuse_ _me_?"

"Young man ninja-scurried up to me and told me to get lost. I considered telling him to shove it, but ended up deciding to sound the retreat." She sipped her coffee and shrugged. "Wasn't in the mood to cause a kerfuffle. Tasering the local youth is usually frowned upon."

"What, you didn't want to cause trouble? _You?_ Is this opposite day and nobody notified me? Boo."

"You're a douche," she said affectionately, reached out, and patted his arm.

"But you love me."

"Friendship really is magic." She couldn't help but crack a smile, and even the corners of his mouth twitched a little. "There's something really fishing going on, here, Jer – really fishy." Just for his sake, she refrained from making an ocean-town-related pun.

"Which is why the FBI is here. They're supposed to investigate and we're supposed to report, remember?"

She opened her mouth to protest, thought better of it, and briefly mimicked shooting a gun at him with her right hand. "Nice try."

This time, he did smile openly. "Everyone's got a skill."

"I got a call from a local, telling me that not only were these white look-alikes seen driving to La Push, but that he saw Isabella Swan, too. And get this" – She folded her arms atop the table and leaned forward – "she looked weird, like she'd gotten plastic surgery."

"It sounds a little like a conspiracy theory, doesn't it?"

June squinted slightly and tilted her head to the side, not taking her eyes off his. "Does it? You know what my FBI guy said. They don't think any theory is far-fetched enough-"

"Except for the zombie theory," he said, and took a hearty bite out of another cinnamon roll.

"Except for that, yes. But just imagine what it would be like if we uncovered a global crime ring where members get ritualistic plastic surgery. How awesome would that be?" She couldn't keep her voice from trembling a little with excitement.

"Pretty awesome. Tell me how the people in La Push are involved in all this."

She leaned back, picked up her cup, and shrugged. "No clue. It'll be something involving money, of course. Maybe they got cheated by one fraction of the crime ring and teamed up with the European branch."

He thought about this for a moment. "It's the most likely theory."

"We need to find out more." She batted her eyelashes at him with mock innocence.

After making a face, he rolled his eyes, and said, "Oh, great. Why do I always have to be the cannon fodder for angry locals who don't like reporters?"

"Because I'm the star of this show, and the show must go on," she said, grinning. Serious again, she added, "Hon, we really need to get on this before anyone else does. We're investigative reporters. Our subscribers want the truth. Besides, I don't like being chased away without finding out what I wasn't supposed to find out."

"Of course you don't." He picked up a paper napkin and wiped his mouth. "Seriously, though: I take this job as seriously as you do, peaches, but if things get iffy…"

"Yes, yes, no life-risking," she said, waving off. "Gotcha."

Not looking overly convinced, he said, "I mean it, June. June. I _mean_ it. If the FBI shows up and tells us to fuck off, we fuck off. If an angry mob chases after us, we fuck off, too. The job is not worth our lives or our freedom."

"All right, I get it. Calm your holey socks," she said, and cracked a beatific smile. "So, how about we do some research on La Push and the Quileutes? We might stumble upon something worthwhile, and you know that old and trusted axiom: knowledge is power."

Tension drained from his posture. "Library it is. You know, for an online reporter, you're remarkably old-school."

"It's how I roll. Also, I am told that reading books is good for your brain."

"Then by all means, let's get you some."

Her smile morphed into a grin. "You're a douche."

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "But you love me."

* * *

 **2** **Everything happened at once, it seemed.** Jasper and Bella rushed upstairs, into the small bedroom where Renesmee's body was. Jacob's heartbeat all but exploded. He broke free, phased, burst out of his room. Demetri ran out of the room Charlie was occupying, knowing the other two vampires had taken the dhampir, and stormed into the master suite.

 _Oh, no._

Only milliseconds. No time to think. No time to be afraid.

The huge, russet-coloured wolf squeezed through the doorframe, hackles on end, fangs bared, growling.

On the bed stood the smaller wolf, the grey fur of her chest dripping with blood, her muscles coiled.

It all happened so quickly.

Jacob jumped Leah jumped collided in the air Demetri forgot his humanity fangs out blood lust he jumped grabbed Jacob's body in mid-air slammed both of them into the wall. They crashed. Plaster rained on them. Jacob growled, bucked, fought. Damn it, Jacob was strong, too strong! Demetri buried his icy finger into the fur the hot skin broke it Jacob yowled. Growling, Leah collided with them, buried them under her. Helped by this momentum, Demetri turned on his back ripped into Jacob's skin bit into his neck tasted blood revolting disgusting sinews muscles skin fur all tearing up under his razor-sharp teeth blood splattering on his face. Jacob howled buckled struggled but he was weakened still weakened still too strong for Demetri to handle by himself. But how could he even be up at all? Jasper that wanker had to have been him didn't matter didn't matter. Leah hit her paw across Jacob's chest scratched deeply Jacob yowled shuddered lay still.

Leah panted, rolled off both of them, phased into human form, and was silent.

* * *

 **3** **Feeding off a cheerily chatting human was weird enough,** but doing so without popping the fangs was even stranger. Luckily, though, Irina didn't mess up. Half an hour after she walked into the little room at the back of Vampire Day Spa, she'd drunk from four different people, all of who struck up conversation with her, telling her about how awesome their vacation in Italy was. Okay, then. The humans were neither killed, nor turned, and they remembered nothing besides a vague feeling of contentment. No, this kind of feeding was not nearly as satisfying as draining five entire humans, but it was much, much better than sticking to the animal diet. Like this, a slight burning in the throat remained, but her wits stayed, too, and nobody had to die. That was a good compromise as far as she was concerned.

After Irina had her portion, Chelsea returned her to her guest room and informed her that she'd be heading back to America for a spell. Irina wished her a good journey, decided that none of that was any of her business and that she shouldn't pry, and finished paging through _The Count of Monte Cristo_ before Aro re-joined her. She put the book down carefully – it was a beautiful tome and deserved respect – and rose to her feet.

He cracked a radiant smile at her. "Emperor business all taken care of. How was your feeding session?"

Unable and unwilling to help herself, she returned the expression. "It was very interesting and not at all what I'd expected."

"It seldom is," he said, good-natured, and held out his hand. "I think our mutual patient has had some time to rest. Shall we take a look?"

Irina's thoughts turned to poor, tortured Fiora, the helpless yet terrifying monster, and she felt heavy. Going about the stronghold with Chelsea, taking in all the new impressions of the unorthodox feeding ground, getting some sustenance…it had all distracted her from the dhampir's torment. Sure, vampires often suffered from attention deficit and had problems focussing on any one thing for long, but Fiora was the whole reason she was in Volterra in the first place. How could she forget the wretched girl and feel at peace, proud at her achievement, and even happy? This was awful.

The smile was wiped off her face. "I hope it works."

"So do I, dear girl," he said, still holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

She braced herself but also told herself off for internally whining about her own guilty feelings. Fiora's pain wasn't about Irina's guilt; shining the spotlight on her own feelings in face of such suffering was in very poor taste. The girl couldn't help being what she was. If Irina could help Fiora become less dangerous and therefore contribute to the girl being allowed to live more comfortably, then it was her duty to at least try. She never wanted to be responsible for anyone else's suffering ever again. "Yes," she said, walked up to him, and took his hand. "Yes, we shall."

* * *

 **4** **"How long until we get to Port Angeles?" This was incredible.** Bella was running at full speed, the incapacitated Renesmee in her arms, and she could still talk just fine. Everything was in sharp, high definition. After feeding on some unfortunate locals in under a minute, she didn't just feel exhilarated and invincible; she felt like a goddess. Who could ever catch her? Who could ever defeat her? There was no-one who was even capable of it. How could they ever presume to judge her? Vampires were at the very top of the food chain. Why would they even be able to do all the things they could if they were somehow not allowed? And even if some mysterious entity decided to deny them their natural rights, such restrictions were not enforceable.

"A few hours. Much easier, travelling like this, isn't it?" Jasper said from her right, running effortlessly beside her.

"Much."

They stayed away from the roads and steered clear of humans, but even if they didn't, what was the worst that could happen? Vampires were way too fast to be caught by anyone or anything. How quickly could a missile fly? Didn't matter. Vampires could outsmart and outthink and outmanoeuvre everyone. Heck, Quileute werewolves were faster, and even they were helpless against gifted immortals such as Jasper.

There was no need to worry about Charlie anymore, either. He was safe with Demetri, and when the time came and he re-joined her in Forks, she would turn him into an immortal. There was a solution to every problem, and there was no problem her perfect vampire brain could not solve with razor-sharp perfection.

Almost giving into the strange urge to laugh out loud, Bella held her lifeless daughter closer to her marble body and ran, feeling ageless and strong and beautiful like a living goddess. Nothing and no-one would ever be able to stop her, and now, she was on her way to finally claim her special place in the word. She was no longer hideously human, but a glorious immortal, and she loved herself in that role.

* * *

 **5** **In his pain and confusion, Jacob phased back to human form,** but the neck wound was too severe, the scratches on his torso inflicted by Leah too deep; he lost consciousness. He had a healthy dose of vampire venom in his veins, adding to the ebbing effect of Bella's. Renesmee was gone, her influence on Jacob probably weakened, maybe even gone completely. Charlie was downstairs, talking to Maria's minions.

Demetri could hear them frantically assuring that Maria would never go against a Volturi order, that none of her people would ever do anything to assist a rogue element. He believed them. The move from Jasper and Bella's part had been spontaneous. There was no doubt in his mind about it. It had all happened too quickly, too suddenly, and they had left too many loose ends. This action had been a complete gamble; it still was. In place of uselessly wondering whether Jasper's betrayal had been long in the making and whether it could have been prevented at all, there were other questions rattling around in Demetri's brain. Had it been the dhampir's influence that had brought Jacob back? Had she been able to work her uncanny, unholy powers even with a broken neck? Given how powerful she was at this tender age, nothing seemed impossible. The creature was only a few months old and already as powerful as Fiora had ever been.

Images flashed before his mind's eye: burning bodies, soulless humans with blank faces and white eyes that oozed blood and black pus, old friends that had lost their minds and free will forever, a heartbreakingly beautiful girl screaming in a both high-pitched and deeply rumbling voice that had the power to simply crumple dozens of bodies as if they were being crushed by an invisible but inescapable weight.

Shaking his head, he told himself to stop this. There was much going on, and there was no time for indulging in memories, good or bad.

Finding out the details of how Jacob had been able to break free at all was a priority, but not the first. First, Demetri checked on Leah, who'd lost consciousness for a moment but was now awake, lying on her back, wheezing and coughing. Her wound had ripped open again and was bleeding profusely. She tried to speak but couldn't. Breathing was too hard. Her heart hammered loudly. The sound of it was not exactly comforting.

"It's quite all right," Demetri told her, tried to smile, and briefly placed his cold hands on her feverish shoulders. Her eyes were wide. Her usually bronzed skin had a greyish pallor to it he didn't care for one single bit. "You did well. I couldn't have defeated him by myself. Now hang on; I'll patch you up in a minute."

As quickly as possible, he scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the bed, got the first-aid kit from the master bathroom, and took care of the wound as well as he could. For good measure, he fed her some painkillers that would get her over the worst of it. This was bad. She did not look well at all. There was no way she'd be able to travel for hours on end in a car, battered like this. Werewolf healing powers or no, her body could only take so much.

Just to make sure, after taking some care of and tying up the unconscious and human Jacob, Demetri broke both of Jacob's legs. The bones would heal quickly enough, but it would take a few hours, and within these few hours, his fate would have to be decided. After everything that had happened, there was no doubt in Demetri's mind that there could only be one solution to this particular problem. Jacob's fate was sealed. There was no repairing the damage that he had suffered. There was no cure. He had no future.

Still, this wasn't only Demetri's problem. Jacob was Leah's former pack leader; he was her kin. Whatever happened to him, she deserved to be a part of it. Even if that wasn't true, she'd want to shoulder that awful responsibility. She'd feel that she owed that to her cousin.

Demetri was pretty sure that he was not projecting.

About half an hour passed before Leah was able to talk again. "Jacob?"

"Alive, wounds dressed, but unable to move," he said. He was standing by the side of the bed, watching both her and Jacob intently; one could never be too careful. When she gave him a doubtful look, he added, "I made sure. Also, Renesmee is gone. Jasper and Bella took her."

"Charlie?" She barely mouthed it.

"Downstairs. He's fine."

For a moment, she closed her eyes. Then, she whispered, "Why didn't you kill him? Jacob. When I was out."

"Because I'm sure you wouldn't want that," he said, watching her struggle to keep her composure, wishing he could do something to make it better.

"Everything's so fucked." She coughed again, pressed her fist to her lips, and waved off weakly when he made to hand her a glass of water. "Help me sit, please."

"Leah, I don't think-"

" _Just help me_."

He did, as carefully as possible. About a minute went by during which she just sat there in silence, propped against the pillows, eyes closed, breathing hard. During that time, Charlie came trudging up the stairs and very warily stepped into the room.

Charlie harrumphed, and said, "The vamps downstairs tell me that their leader had no idea that the Cullen boy and…and" – He took a deep breath, shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and looked down at his feet – "my daughter would double-cross you."

"I believe them," Demetri said quietly, glanced at Charlie, and then focussed his attention on Leah again. "You'll be fine. You just need some time to heal."

She blinked up at the ceiling, grimacing. "I'm a goddamn damsel in distress. This is about the fiftieth time you saved me." Her voice was still hardly above a whisper, but at least she was talking.

"That's not true. We took him down together. You were hurt because you saved Charlie's life. It's got nothing to do with being a damsel." Demetri knew that she just hated to feel incapacitated. He could sympathise. It was easier to blame oneself than to admit that sometimes, circumstances were just beyond one's control.

"Damn straight," Charlie said. When she gave him a thoroughly unhappy look, he added, "Thank you for saving my life, by the way. I was sure I was dead meat when I broke that little freak's neck."

"Anytime," she rasped, and actually smiled a little. It was a welcome sight.

"We need to decide what to do," Demetri said, not wanting to intrude but not seeing any other option than to press on. Jasper and Bella had Renesmee and were undoubtedly heading toward Caius. Jacob needed to be taken care of. Dealing with awful things and being forced to decide over the life or death of a sapient creature was always terrible, but sometimes, there was no escaping the hard decisions. Both Charlie and Leah looked at him. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his freezing hands and crossed his arms. "Since Bella and Jasper didn't try to kill you" – He locked eyes with Leah – "it stands to reason to assume that they want to help Caius eliminate your people in La Push. It's what I would do in their place. Given the fact that Jasper is not an idiot, he will have picked up on Caius's hatred of all werewolves everywhere. He'll have deduced that Caius will look for an excuse to kill them all anyway, despite the ultimatum he gave me."

"You're wrong," Leah said quietly, and pulled up one corner of her mouth in a crooked little smile. "That's not what you would do in their place."

He smiled right back at her. "You're right. It's not."

She tried to talk again, coughed, grimaced, breathed, and sighed. "Damn it." Then, she looked at Demetri again. "You seemed to trust that ultimatum earlier. Why not anymore?"

There was no need to think about the answer. "Because it's become clear to me that he knew from the beginning that I would fail. It was never a test. It's just an excuse to, in the end, murder all those wolves without having to justify himself to Aro." He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Jasper knows that, too. He doesn't exactly like me and will use both Caius's paranoia and his own admittedly impressive powers to persuade Caius to get rid of me and all the Quileute werewolves. That would, judging by the way he seems to think, solve all his problems."

"That boy is a special brand of psychopathic," Charlie said, slowly shaking his head. "Creepy little fucker." He squinted at both the others in turn. "Sorry about the language."

"I can take it and he's a thousand years old, anyway," Leah said, and reached out a trembling hand to grab the half-full glass of water from the wooden nightstand. She spilled some of it on the thick duvet, but neither of the men interfered. If she wanted help, she'd ask for it. "We can't catch up to them. I can't phase before this stupid hole in my chest is healed, and Charlie's human. He can't run that fast, and I doubt that you can carry us both and still see where you're going, Vampire Boy."

"It'd be the death of you," Demetri replied gravely, "so it's out of the question, anyway."

"Brute force won't do," Charlie said, scratching his neck. "At the hotel of horrors, Jacob tried to strike some conversation and told me about the evils of vampires with magic powers. If we barge into your little club, Matt…I mean, Demetri, then we'll get pulverised instead of saving the day. No, we need to use our brains to get out of this pickle."

It was Demetri's turn to look down at his feet. "I'll have to disobey a direct order from my general. I, uh…" He trailed off, chuckled humourlessly, and shook his head, before making himself look each of the others in the eye. "I've never done that before."

"Well, seems like the guy set you up, first," Charlie said, before Leah had a chance. She'd already opened her mouth to protest. He shrugged. "When a commanding officer is no longer fit to command, he is relieved of duty. I don't know you very well, kid, but from what I can tell, you're not exactly the type who'll sit by and let a genocide happen."

"I'm not." There was no need to think about that answer, either.

"Times are changing," Leah said quietly. Her voice was a little firmer now. "You yourself keep saying this. There's internet and social networks and missiles and napalm and god knows what else. The old way of doing things might've worked until recently, but if we don't adapt, we'll die – leeches and wolves alike. Killing or turning humans in the know doesn't work as a precaution anymore. Waging wars and committing genocide attracts unwanted attention. What we need is to work together to protect ourselves and each other." When her voice broke, she grimaced and massaged her throat, but didn't cough. "You and I are friends. We work well together. We have each other's back. Charlie saved all of us by snapping Re-Name-Me's neck. Why insist that things stay as they've been for thousands of years? The world isn't what it used to be."

Since this was basically what Demetri had been preaching to his fellow Volturi for the past century or so, it was almost funny to hear someone else giving The Speech. The present situation, however, left little room for humour. "You're right," he said. "There's too much attention being drawn to the supernatural as it is. More deaths would only make it worse. We need to find a different solution, and we need to do so quickly."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Charlie said, raising a hand as if at school. Both Leah and Demetri focussed their eyes on him. "Why not use the attention this whole mess has already attracted to our advantage?"

When Leah only creased her forehead, Demetri said, "What do you mean?"

It was Charlie's turn to smile slightly. "Well, I'll need your help, you'll need mine, and we all will need a specific other person's, but I think I've got a plan."

* * *

 **6** **The emaciated girl in the cell of horrors down the corridor of curiosities** (and Irina still didn't want to know what was lying in wait behind the other doors) was silent – not just physically, since she had no voice, but telepathically, too. As he had done the previous times, Aro opened the door and Irina stepped inside the cold little room. This time, however, the unspeakable agony of pleading screams inside her head did not assault her. No, this time, there was absolute, blissful silence. The girl sat chained to the wall, filthy and immobile, staring at Irina out of huge, reddened eyes, surprise written all over her perfectly symmetrical face. There was something different. Both of them could feel it.

"Has anything changed?" Aro's pleasant voice came in through the little rectangular opening in the thick metal door.

It took Irina a moment to snap out of it. "Yes." She didn't dare take her eyes of Fiora's. Actually, she believed that the feeling was quite mutual. "There's nothing – no pull, no urge to free her, no voice. It's amazing."

"Wonderful!" He sounded delighted as ever. "I want you to briefly touch her skin again – only for a split second."

"All right," she said, and sighed inwardly. Saying that she was looking forward to getting closer to Fiora again would be a lie, but she did want to help her. "Let's hope this works." Quick as lightning, she darted forward, pressed her fingertips to the girl's grimy, warm and smooth forehead, and backed off against the metal door again. She waited, but once more, nothing happened. Tension drained from her posture. She felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Nothing."

"Amazing. Truly amazing." He sounded almost awed. "Now we know that you do have a special gift, my dear: your venom contains a natural immunity to dhampir powers. That is, if I may say so, _quite_ a revolution!"

When he re-opened the door, she gave Fiora a little smile and hurried outside. "It's kind of an ineffectual one, though, if you think about it: I was not able to completely resist Renesmee."

He locked the door, spun around, and cracked a dizzying, sunny, warm smile at her. "You didn't succumb to her powers; you were mildly affected by them. In the end, you acted against her interests, which indicates that you were building some kind of resistance. Now, you silenced the telepathic abilities of one of the most powerful supernatural creatures to ever walk the Earth."

"That doesn't mean much if she manages to dazzle anyone else."

The smile broadened. "Which leads us to phase two of our experiment." He took her hands and squeezed them slightly. "Have some faith in the universe, Irina. Have some faith that in the end, things will turn out for the best."

"I'll try," she said, returning his expression. "And once we find out that I can suppress her powers indefinitely, then we can get her out of that horrible place, right?"

For a second, he just kept looking at her, that solicitous expression on his unremarkably remarkable face unwavering, and then he said, "Yes. Of course we will. If it works."

"If it works," she echoed dreamily, not for the first time wishing she had a heartbeat that could physically display the excitement she was feeling. _Finally_ , she had the chance to actually spread some good in the world instead of being a permanent source for destruction and misery.

* * *

 **7** **The North Olympic Library System, Forks Branch,** was a cute one-story building in downtown Forks. It was relatively small, but well-equipped, and doing research in it made June feel like she was actually in a movie or book investigating a big mystery in a small town. Well, stranger than fiction and all that jazz. Much of her research, she did online, but frankly, being a child of the Eighties, she enjoyed some hands-on activity that involved reading actual books, travelling places, and actually talking to people. For example, the NOLS people were very forthcoming and helpful, being able to direct her to registries and old newspapers and microfiche – things that would either take forever to find online, or that simply were too low-tech for the internet.

In one of the big, dusty tomes containing decades-old newspapers (that kind of paper that made her sneeze and that made her fingers itch), it was Jerry Lopes, intrepid cameraman and long-suffering best friend, who found something remarkable and seemingly impossible: he found a photograph that should not exist.

After joining him at one of the big reading tables, she stared at the grainy picture for what felt like five eternities – blinking, slack-jawed, brain-fried. The only thing that was missing was drool dripping down her chin. What the hell _was_ this? It…it couldn't be. Could this actually be for real? Were the young FBI agents in Quantico actually right with their ridiculous pet theory?

"By the Power of Grayskull," she whispered, reached out, and gently traced her fingers across the carefully conserved newspaper. No, this wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, but she just _had_ to touch it, had to make sure that it wouldn't disappear in a puff of smoke.

"Is this shit real?" Jerry whispered right back, sounding both suspicious and daunted at the same time.

"It has to be," she said lowly, her voice trembling slightly. "I mean, look at it. Look at the book bindings. Think about the fact that no-one has found out about this yet. If it were fake, it wouldn't be dusting away in a forgotten corner of a library nobody goes to."

"Whatever it is, your subscribers will go wild."

She cast him an irritated look. "This isn't about _our_ subscribers, Jer. Think about it: we might be onto something that could change our entire outlook on humanity." It cost her a good amount of effort to keep her voice down. Acting suspicious would do no-one any good. "And we're the ones to stumble upon it."

"If it's real."

"Oh, it's real, all right," she said, and motioned at the date at the top corner of the paper, reading _Sunday, April 19, 1936_. "This is over seventy years old, and the man hasn't aged one day – neither of them, as a matter of fact."

Jerry shrugged. "Identical grandfather?"

Again, she glared at him sideways. "Yeah, right. Identical grandfather and identical adopted son? Try again. This is real, and it's ours to reveal to the world. The Feds won't be thrilled that online vloggers found out about this horror movie stuff before they did, but our work will help them, too. This will open up a whole new avenue of investigations! We _have_ to share."

"After we get more information," he said, raising his left index finger.

"After we get more information," she confirmed, nodding. With a slightly shaky hand, she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "But this is our biggest break yet. I can feel it." Shock and awe had subsided and made way for something that was both anticipation and glee. Allowing a broad smile to spread across her face, she looked down at the seven-decades-old picture of Carlisle and Edward Cullen as the former shook hands with the local hospital's dean of medicine. "Times are changing, buddy boy of mine, and we are riding the crest of the wave."

* * *

 **8** **Charlie's plan was a gamble, but it was admittedly pretty clever.** It was also the only choice they had, given that things were going down the drain in every conceivable way and they needed to exert some damage control as quickly as possible. As Demetri did his bit and Charlie set his own part into motion, Leah braced herself to dislodge the pebble that might end up causing an avalanche. Yeah, it sucked. _Boy_ , did it suck. The whole stupid thing did. Not only did she have to deal with her wound and with the La Push stuff, no. She had to deal with Jacob, too – Jacob, who was bound and gagged and poisoned and broken, twitching and groaning and in agony both spiritual and physical Leah would not wish upon her worst enemy…

…not even Jasper.

She hated that fucker. There was no other way of putting it, no euphemism that might even remotely encompass her disgust and revulsion, her simple wish to see him erased from the face of the Earth. He had to die and she wanted to be the one to do it. But did she wish the torture on him that he would gleefully put her through, were he given half the chance? Nope. Just because she truly and honestly wanted him to snuff it, it didn't mean that she had suddenly turned into a sadist. Killing was ugly business, and one should not derive joy from it – ever.

Skinny kid in a soccer jersey. Short lady. Chubby boy. Pixie-haircut girl.

Jacob.

Would she see his face forever before her mind's eye, too, once he was gone? Yes. Of course she would. Hell, even if this weren't a forgone conclusion, she'd make herself remember him – remember him how he'd been before Bella fucking Swan's demon baby had eaten his brain and killed the stubborn, melodramatic, annoying, brave, jovial, sweet boy that he'd once been. Yes, Leah knew that he'd made his own bed and that his choices up until seeing Re-name-me for the first time had been his own. Ultimately, everyone was responsible for their own fate, at least to a certain degree. Did that make anything less tragic? Nope. No, it didn't. But this wasn't about her and how she felt about all this. This was about Jacob, about his father, about all of the people in La Push whose lives were in danger.

She needed to get a move on.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she picked up her phone (Irina's – it was Irina's. Leah had smashed her own in a fit of rage. Seemed like strange aeons ago) from the nightstand, where Demetri had put it, and called the number she needed to call.

Not five seconds later, the intended recipient picked up. " _Yes?_ "

After clearing her throat again and bracing herself for disaster, she said, "Sam, it's me."

A little pause ensued. " _You sound awful. What happened?_ "

"I got hurt, but I'll live. Listen, I need to-"

" _You got hurt? What the hell happened? Where's Jacob? I-_ "

"Sam, shut the fuck up and _listen!_ " That was painful, but miraculously, it worked. "Jasper and Bella are bringing the demon-spawn to Port Angeles, to the albino leech. They plan to kill all of you, but Charlie, Demetri, and I have a plan."

" _Charlie's alive! That's great news. Not so sure about your boyfriend, though_."

Rolling her eyes hurt, too, but she couldn't and wouldn't stop herself. It was either that or telling Sam to jump up her ass, and she needed his help. "Listen: we – _I_ need you to do something for me. It's crucial that it works, you hear me? If you don't listen to me this time, you are all going to die. I'm not into saying 'I told you so', but remember how things turned out last time you ignored my advice."

To be honest, she basically expected him to yell at her and hang up without hesitation, but he decided to defy her expectations.

After a moment's awkward silence, he finally said, " _Okay. I'm listening_."

The weight of the world slid off her shoulders. She unclenched her left fist, closed her eyes, and sunk back against the pillows. "Good. I just got to tell you right off the bat: you're not gonna like this."

" _I don't expect to_."

Without wasting any more time, they talked business.

* * *

 **9** **The Forks Community Hospital was the nursing home that housed the oldest living Forks native,** a woman named Betty Williams. This woman was ninety years old and suffered from some sort of slow-working cancer, but she wasn't just as sharp-minded as ever, she also had a cell phone. This was how June first contacted her and asked her if she and her cameraman could pay her a visit and ask about some anecdotes of the olden days, so to speak. The reason they did this was that, in the newspaper photograph, she'd been standing behind the young man who looked exactly like Edward Cullen.

Mrs Williams, a relatively tall and straight, thin lady with white, papery skin and even whiter, wavy hair, met June and Jerry in the home's small lobby. She was smiling. It lit up her whole face. Old age or no, this was one beautiful woman. "Miss Cassidy, Mister Lopes! So good of you to come!" she called out, her voice loud and clear, and held out a hand to both new arrivals. With her other hand, she was leaning heavily on a sturdy cane.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Jerry said, and shook the offered hand.

June did the same. "You said you watch our show?"

Mrs William's smile grew broader, crinkling the skin around her eyes even more. There was a merry, almost mischievous quality to that smile that made June wish she'd age half as gracefully. "I was one of your first subscribers, and now that you've put our little town on the map, I feel entitled to inform everyone of that little factoid."

June laughed; she couldn't help herself. "Well, I am honoured," she said, lightly bowing her head. "Shall we sit down somewhere to have our little chat about that picture?"

"Follow me." Resolutely, Mrs Williams led the way to her room, which was relatively small, but bright and friendly, being furnished with a bed, a closet, a round little table, and two chairs. "You can start filming whenever you like."

She sat down on one of the chairs, June on the other. Jerry stood in the corner and fired up the handheld camcorder.

"Rolling in three, two, one…" he said, and gave the women the thumbs-up.

June screwed on her TV smile, as she herself had dubbed it, and looked into the lens. "Hey, lovely subscribers, and welcome back! Jerry and I are at the Forks Community Hospital, and we're about to interview who must be the most interesting person in Clallam County, Misses Betty Williams!" She half-turned to Mrs Williams. "Say hello to the viewers, Mrs Williams!"

"You can call me Betty," she said, and nodded once at the camera.

"I'm June. So, the reason we are here today is-"

"The fact that the Cullen family already lived here about seventy years ago, before disappearing and then showing up again long after they should have died," Betty cut in energetically.

It took June a couple of seconds to shake off the surprise. She fidgeted with her left hoop earring. Dang it. People were going to catch onto that. Didn't matter. Real emotions were always good for traffic. "That's right. We found a photograph of who seems to be Carlisle and Edward Cullen in a 1936 newspaper, which you can see right here." During the editing process, Jerry would insert the picture into the frame. "It's not a fake; it's not Photoshop. This baby is real. In the background, you can see a young Betty. That really is you, isn't it, Betty?"

"It is, and the two strapping lads in the same shot don't just seem to be Carlisle and Edward Cullen; they _are_ Carlisle and Edward Cullen," Betty said, smiling serenely. "I've been trying to tell people for the past year, and everyone thought I was senile. Not so senile anymore, am I?"

"Not in the slightest," June said, frowning a little and shaking her head. It wasn't a faked emotion, either. This lady obviously still had her wits about her, and even if she didn't, she was still right on the money. "So, do you remember that day, Betty? Or any other specific occurrence involving these Cullens?" She only just refrained from making air-quotes when she said the name.

Betty straightened her posture and straightened the collar of her dark-red blouse. "Yes, I can. On the day that picture was taken – and I'd completely forgotten about the press being there, to tell you the truth – a new wing of the hospital was inaugurated, which Carlisle Cullen had basically paid for by himself. The rumour back then was that no-one could have that kind of money without having killed someone for it, those days being plagued by the Depression, but I always thought that this was nonsense. He seemed a little aloof, but otherwise pretty pleasant. It was the boy that I disliked – well, actually, the boys, plural."

June's carefully plucked eyebrows wandered almost up to her hairline. "Boys?"

"Yes. What were their names again?" Betty tapped one golden-ring-adorned finger against her lips. "The snooty brat was Edward; I remember that. There was a huge, bulky young man whose laughter sounded like a donkey braying. The third one was scary. His name was something with J. James? Jared?"

"Jasper?"

There was a spark in Betty's brown eyes. "That's right. Jasper. There was something wrong with that one. I remember them quite well. They moved into town and stayed for a few years. Then, they left again. I basically forgot all about them until one day, imagine my surprise when I saw Doctor Cullen at the hospital. This happened about a year ago." She sneered and looked directly into the camera. "Guess some of you incorrigibles will say that I'm senile and these young people are exploiting that. How far do you think a journalist who's never once posted a sensationalist video would go to fake newspaper clippings at the local library?"

"She's got a point, there," June said, flashing a smile at the camera and Jerry, who gave her the thumbs-up again. "Whatever this actually means, people, we've stumbled onto another baffling side of this huge mystery involving the so-called Cullen family. Are they time-travellers? Are they somehow able to slow their ageing? Are they undead? Is this some hyper-advanced form of plastic surgery? We'll keep you all posted. Thank you so much for watching, and don't forget to subscribe!"

Little later, they wrapped it up, thanked Betty for her time and assistance, and headed for the parking lot. Jerry was silent, but June felt like she had to say something lest her head explode from all the excitement.

"This is amazing! I can't _believe_ we actually stumbled over something that just has to be a global conspiracy!" she said, bubbly, and almost jumped for joy. The sky was overcast and it had started to drizzle, but she didn't care. Taking in a deep lungful of the fresh, heavy, salty ocean air, she grinned at Jerry, who was only slightly shorter than she was. "What do you think is the real story?"

"Whatever it is, we're going to find out," he said, standing by the Beetle's passenger side door and patiently waiting for her to unlock the car. After stowing away his camera and getting inside, he told her, who was already starting the engine, "People are gonna say it's fake."

"Doesn't matter. Even if the authorities lie to the people to cover something up, which is well within the realm of possibilities, we know it's true, and we've got at least one witness. Our next stop should be the hospital where Cullen worked. I'm pretty sure they've got neatly kept archives they might be willing to let us trawl." She pulled out of the parking space and drove onto the not very busy street.

"Maybe we should share our findings with the FBI before we post our next video," he said, thoughtful, eyeing her sideways.

She glanced at him briefly, grimacing. "Do you seriously expect the Feds to allow us to post anything if we ask them for permission, first? Also, we're journalists, and uncovering the truth is our job. _New York Times_ reporters don't ask the cops for permission before publishing articles about crimes, either." That tone conveyed zero tolerance for back-talking, and she knew that he knew it. Since she didn't want him to feel any more bossed around than he already must be feeling, she added, in a more solicitous tone, "Listen, Jer: I know this is a lot to deal with, and I understand your trepidations, but I honestly believe that-"

In her jacket pocket, _Eye of the Tiger_ started to blare.

Wordlessly, Jerry snatched her phone out of said pocket, pressed the appropriate button, and held the battered little thing to his ear. "June Cassidy's selfless and amazingly patient cameraman speaking. She can't come to the phone right now because she's driving and I don't want to die. Can I take a message?"

His tone was dry, but when June glanced at him a moment later, his brown eyes were wide and his usually light-brown skin was strangely pale.

"What?" she mouthed at him and turned to stare, irritated, when she had to stop at a red traffic light.

"Okay," Jerry said, using a quiet, insecure tone that wasn't at all like him. "We'll call you from our motel in about five minutes." He cut the connection and locked eyes with her, slowly shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what had just taken place. "Holy crap hitting even holier fans, June. Holy effing _crap_."

"Who the hell was that? You're scaring me a little, honey."

"That," he said, and briefly held up her phone, "was our fugitive friend, Matthew Darcy. He says he can answer all our questions and that he'll talk exclusively to us – you, actually, but I spontaneously decided to include myself."

Her heart picked up the pace. She drew in a shaky breath. When the light turned green, she forgot to drive, and the driver of the pickup truck behind her angrily honked the horn of the righteous. Startled, she stepped on the gas pedal, and the Beetle lurched into motion. "This has got to be the luckiest day of our careers," she said, sounding as awed and subdued as Jerry just had. "Finally, _we're_ actually getting somewhere where the FBI has failed for years."

"Miracles do happen," he replied, deadpan.

They drove the rest of the way to the motel in stunned silence.

* * *

 **10** **When Charlie and Demetri returned to the master suite,** Leah had managed to not only sit up, but to swing her legs out of bed. The chest wound still hurt like a mother, but the bleeding was stilled and she could feel herself healing. Thankfully, neither guy told her to take it easy or that she was being stupid.

"I spoke with the vlogger," Demetri said, placing himself right next to the unconscious Jacob, whom he'd dressed in a spare (and somewhat undersized) pair of jeans, and under whose head he'd carefully placed a pillow. "She and her partner had no trouble believing my story, mostly because they sort of stumbled onto the truth by themselves only this morning." He smiled a little. It looked both grim and as if he felt vindicated. Well, he'd earned the right to do that, hadn't he? He'd been preaching the gospel forever, now, and finally, rapture had decided to make a special guest appearance. "You were right: times are changing indeed."

"You were both right," Charlie said, watching Leah with care and worry stamped all over his face. He obviously also didn't want to hover, which was fine by her. "I made some calls, too, and my people are game. The story they got to hear was a different one, though, obviously."

"Even if not, you could always claim that your head injury rendered you temporarily insane," Demetri said, clearly trying to be funny. Weird as it was, he actually succeeded.

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah. You know, I'm not entirely convinced this isn't what really happened, anyway."

Discretion and sensitivity or no, when Leah tried to stand but swayed and nearly crashed down on her sorry ass, Demetri was by her side in a flash, steadying her.

"Please don't try to do too much, too quickly," he said, making a face like someone had stepped on his foot really hard. "I really admire your strength and determination, but I don't want to watch you die, either." Okay. Fine. Yuppie Vamp had a bit of a point, there. One had to give him that much. Apparently, he made a habit of it, too.

She inhaled as deeply as she could without making the pain become unbearable, shook some greasy and dishevelled hair out of her face, and said, "I need to take care of Jacob, and I need to do it right now."

Neither man said anything. A weird, heavy, awkward silence ensued. It was as if the air had become thicker, somehow, staler, harder to move in, harder to breathe.

Finally, Charlie shuffled his feet, scratched his stubble, harrumphed, and said, "Leah…"

"I _have_ to." She did her own feet-shuffling trick and turned herself around so that she was looking in Jacob's direction. "He's my cousin. We were in the same pack. I owe it to him to be the one to do it. It has to be me, and it has to happen now. I can't stand to let him suffer like this any longer." There was a knot in her throat. Her eyes stung. Her stomach lurched. In a quiet, uncharacteristically shy voice, she added, "Please don't make this any harder for me than it needs to be, guys, okay?"

They stayed silent, and she dragged her mangled body across the few steps that separated her from Jacob's prostrate, twitching form.

He was grimacing, groaning lowly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his temples. It ran down the sides of his face in rivulets. His hair was drenched. He kept clenching his fists and flexing his muscles. His broken legs jerked uncontrollably, the healing process slowed by the vampire venom, causing him even more pain. The wound on his neck was hideous, even with a bandage. Demetri had nearly chewed his head off in his attempt to stop him, because Jacob simply wouldn't quit trying to murder his own family. The deep scratches on his chest were bandaged, too, but soaked in blood. He baked off heat like he was burning from a fever. He stank, too, as if his innards were rotting while he was still alive to feel all of it.

This was no life. The boy she had known, had respected, had cared about…that boy was _gone_. He'd been gone for months now, his mind wiped away and his personality irreversibly replaced by something entirely foreign, something entirely awful and alien. Leah had known this. She had known all along that he would not be saved, that he _couldn't_ be saved, but she had clung onto the delusions of a timely rescue all the same. With everything that had happened, with all the losses she and her people had suffered, this was simply the last straw, the one thing she couldn't face.

But now she had to face it. She was all out of options. Besides, her pain was crippling, yes, but this wasn't about her. Right now, it was all about Jacob. She owed him this at least. "Please help me kneel," she said, and her vampire friend did so without a word. She knew that she would be eternally grateful to him for that. There was no way she'd be able to deal with his worry, with admonitions, or even with pity. This needed to be done, and it needed to be done now. If she didn't manage at this precise moment, she didn't think she'd ever work up the courage again. Once she was down, she shifted her weight, sat, crossed her legs, and gently placed Jacob's troubled head in her lap. With her fingertips, she brushed a sweat-soaked strand of his straight, dark hair out of his creased, damp forehead.

He whimpered. Tears squeezed through his thick eyelashes and ran down the sides of his face, mixing with the sweat.

"It's okay," she said lowly, and wiped some of the grime out of his face. "Quiet down. It's okay. I'm here. You're not alone."

God, he was so young. He was barely older than her baby brother.

Poor Seth. Could _he_ be saved?

Angrily, she told herself to cut it out. There was a time and a place, and this was neither. "You were always such a brat, Jacob," she said, and snickered. Her vision grew blurry. The tip of her nose itched. The knot in her throat got thicker. Her hands felt cold and clammy, but her face was hot. She was trembling. "Such a colossal _brat_. Remember when I used to babysit you, and you tried to pull all kinds of stupid pranks on me and failed every time?" She laughed lowly and sniffled. Tears spilt from her eyes. "It was funny. You thought you were so smart and mature. You always wanted to grow up too fast and couldn't see that you were still a kid." A little pause ensued. The silence was heavy as lead. "Now, you're gonna stay a kid forever." Slowly, ignoring the screaming agony of her wound, she bent down, placed a little kiss on his forehead, and straightened up again. After taking another shaky breath, she put her hands to the side of his face, closed her eyes, said, "Goodbye," and broke his neck.

Jacob was gone. He'd been gone for a long time. It was now time for him to rest easy.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N : There be references to DC comics / DCEU (particularly a paraphrased quote out of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice) and Interview With a Vampire (actually only the title, but I thought I'd point that out anyway). Thank you everyone who read last chapter, and thank you for commenting. It makes me happy to know that you are having fun following the story. We're slowly moving toward the great finale! So please stay tuned and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight**

 **1** **The next part of the experiment required a little more preparation.** Irina stayed right where she was, in the corridor of curiosities, whilst Aro used his phone to call someone she presumed was security. She wanted to ask him what was going to happen next, but he'd probably just tell her to wait and see, anyway. Little later, two vampires in grey uniforms arrived: a tall and muscular woman who wore her dark hair in a thick braid, and a slightly shorter, wiry man whose red beard was neatly trimmed and whose long hair was pinned up in a sideways bun; this reminded Irina of an exhibit about pagan Germanic tribes she'd once visited about a decade ago. Both new arrivals looked all business and didn't seem like they had much tolerance for nonsense.

The woman, sharp-featured and long-limbed, had that unfortunate olive-tinged pallor to her skin vampires always got if they used to be people of colour during their human lives. The shock they went through upon awakening to their vampire existence must be even worse than it had been for Irina and the likes of her. At least Irina had always been white. People of colour woke up after days of unimaginable suffering to find not only their bodies changed and their faces nearly unrecognisable, but they found themselves white-washed, too. How could anyone ever choose to have every ounce of individuality and cultural identity stripped from them to become an undead doll who only survived on the lives of others? How was that any better than a mortal and flawed, but human and natural existence? The answer was simple: it wasn't. She didn't want to whine, but given a choice, she'd always return to a human existence, preferably to her own time and the people she had once loved.

Somehow, all this brought Bella Swan to mind – Bella, her naiveté, her idiocy, and her mind-blowing arrogance.

Irina hoped that Charlie Swan and Leah Clearwater were okay, but mostly, she wished it for Demetri, who had been nothing but her friend. Sure, she could try to blame him for dragging her into this mess, but she had wanted revenge for Laurent, and not only hadn't Demetri forced her to do anything, he hadn't had the slightest clue about how dire the situation truly was. Her choices were hers alone, and the consequences hers to bear. Pointing fingers was always a waste of energy, anyway. At least now Irina had a chance to be useful, to do something that benefited others instead of causing further harm. That had got to count for something. Maybe there was at least an ounce of redemption left for her, even if the many lives she had taken could never be brought back. The suffering she had caused could never be erased, the potential she had eradicated was lost forever. None of it could be undone.

She hoped so badly that Aro was right about her ability to silence a dhampir's psychic powers. Even if it only worked with Fiora, it would count as a huge success. The girl deserved a life, not this kind of hopeless, eternal suffering. Irina wouldn't wish that fate upon her worst enemy, let alone a girl who couldn't help what she was. Yes, Fiora was a monster, but not by choice. Maybe she could be redeemed, too.

The guards positioned themselves in front of Aro, who nodded at both of them, smiling. Both of them smiled back. Irina wasn't really surprised. It was pretty hard to fight the impulse. She was pretty sure that if he unleashed the full force of his charm, no-one would be able to resist.

Okay, maybe Jasper, but he'd been a psychopath even as a human, so he didn't really count. Here was to hoping Leah had killed him by now.

"Dear ones, I have a very important task for you. You may be surprised when I tell you what I need from you, but trust me: I have a very good reason," Aro said gravely, looking from the woman to the man and back again. Both remained silent and kept watching him, enraptured. "I'm going to open one of these doors" – He motioned about with a slow wave of his right arm – "and you are going to make sure that when Irina here goes inside, she will not be harmed. After she has exited the cell again, you will take the prisoner and carry him to the end of the corridor."

The redhead's even redder eyes widened, but the woman remained impassive.

"Who?" she said.

"Atenulf," Aro said, and both other vampires visibly tensed up.

This didn't exactly bode well. Irina started feeling a little squirmy, herself. "Who is that?"

Aro turned to her, wearing a smile on his face that looked ferocious, yet somehow cold as ice. Oh, whoever it was that he felt deserved that particular expression was a very unlucky bastard. "That, sweet girl, is Fiora's father."

* * *

 **2** **It was Charlie who wrapped up Jacob's body in a sheet because he insisted he be the one to do it.** Leah had, in the interim, washed herself and her hair as best she could under the circumstances, and was now sitting on the huge bed again, propped up against the pillows. She had her emotions under control again, at least on the surface, and felt like she could put off grieving – really grieving – until this whole stupid mess was over and done with, for better or for worse.

Demetri had made himself useful yet again and had cooked some spaghetti and tomato sauce, which Leah and Charlie were now forcing down their gullets. Charlie had brought up a chair from the kitchen and kept unhappily sticking his fork into his food, whilst Leah, the one with the hole in her chest, managed to be a little more successful. Of course neither of them was hungry, but that didn't matter. Both of them needed sustenance.

"How long do you think it will take B…I mean, it will take the other three to get to Port Angeles?" Charlie said at some point.

Leah didn't exactly blame him for not wanting to think about the fact that one of the undead, murderous leeches that subsided off human blood had once been his daughter. She was barely holding up as it was, herself.

"Several hours, depending on how quickly they're able to run," Demetri, who stood by the big window and looked out into the sunshine, replied. "They'll probably reach their destination some time tonight."

"Man, I really hope this infallible comic-book plan of ours works," Leah said, mouth half-full with spaghetti. "If it doesn't, we'll be coming back to everyone being dead, and I don't think my brain can take that. I got to be honest with you guys. Hell, I'm only cool right now because I'm pretty sure the last fuse has finally blown."

"It'll work," Charlie said, obviously trying to sound confident, but not quite managing. Events had taken their toll on him, too. It would be disconcerting if they hadn't. "You'll see."

"I don't know," she said, placed the almost empty bowl on her outstretched legs, and shrugged. "Even if mostly everything goes right, we'll still be depending upon the kindness of monsters."

"Not only. Humans are pretty tough, not to mention ingenious. Just because someone doesn't have superpowers, it doesn't mean that they are powerless," Demetri said slowly, thoughtfully. He kept his eyes fixed on the vista outside. It was likely that he didn't get to go out in the sun much due to discretion reasons and the sparkle situation (although he had ways of managing that one). Since he was perpetually cold, being mostly trapped inside when the weather was this lovely must be torture for the poor guy. "And at least some of the monsters are on our side."

"On our side," Charlie echoed, snorted dry laughter, and shook his head. "Man, I never thought I'd be part of the team of weirdest superheroes ever."

"A human, a vampire, and a werewolf with a gaping hole in her chest walk into a bar," Leah said flatly. "When are you gonna call the albino?"

This time, Demetri did glance at her over his shoulder. "Right now. Maybe I can convince him to actually hear me out."

"Wouldn't bet on it, kid," Charlie replied gruffly, and started poking his lunch with the business end of his fork again.

"I don't, but I do like to hope for the best." Demetri fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and beheld it thoughtfully. "It's the moment of truth, and there's no time like the present." He dialled Caius's number and put the phone on speaker. Maybe they didn't need to go through with their plan. Maybe things would, for once, work out without complications.

Leah still didn't feel inclined to place any bets, though.

* * *

 **3** **Of course, the FBI taskforce leader refused to talk to any sort of press,** so she wouldn't talk to June, either, but that didn't even matter. Let them and the regular press do their thing. No, June and Jerry had a hot lead all of their own, an exclusive one courtesy of a man who…who…well, who was either the key to answering all the questions raised by this incredible mystery, or who was stark raving mad. June herself was inclined to believe the former, only because of what she herself had seen and what Betty Williams had told her. Vampires, tribal werewolves, super-powered dhampirs…June had always been a science fiction and fantasy junkie, but had she actually believed in any of it?

Her mind had been open to the possibility, sure, but scepticism was always advisable both to sci-fi fans and journalists. On the other hand, denying reality once reality became undeniable was the flip side of being a sceptic, which could be equally damaging. The reality was that she and Jerry had just conducted an interview with a vampire and were now on their way to helping said vampire save the Earth from an unholy abomination in the shape of a cute little girl. Could be worse. It couldn't be any better, though.

They drove to La Push in silence, each keeping to their own thoughts. Both of them knew the evidence was irrefutable. Supernatural beings lived among them. Given the fact that the Cullens had been as conspicuous as all hell for the past few decades at least, it was a right wonder that people in general hadn't found out about them until now.

People. Huh. Humans? Not only – not anymore. It never occurred to her that at some point, she'd have to broaden her perspective of the term 'people'.

The sky was overcast. The earlier drizzle turned into bona fide bucketing. June switched the windshield wipers on. Jerry was staring out the passenger-side window, frowning slightly, chewing on his plump lower lip.

After casting him a few furtive, sideways looks, she said, "We don't have to do this."

He straightened up, turned to face her, and arched his eyebrows. "Yes, we do."

"For all my bubbly enthusiasm, I'm not exactly Lois Lane, Jer. I realise that sometimes, things are just too much for regular people, people like us, to deal with." Briefly, she reached out and gave his long-fingered, thin hand a little squeeze. "The last thing I want is put your life in danger. There'll be other good stories."

"It's not just about the story, or even satisfying our curiosity," he said, sounding thoughtful. "You heard the guy. This is about stopping what's basically Doomsday, the baby edition, to cling onto your DC comics metaphor. They need our help to stop this thing. It doesn't even matter that we don't have any superpowers. It's a the-good-of-the-many kind of deal."

"It is. You're right. All I'm saying is that if your life gets risked, I will think twice about letting you strut confidently into the warzone."

He snickered. "And you think I'll let _you_ get all the credit for saving the world? Fat chance, girlfriend."

"If only it was about stealing credit," she said, smiling grimly. "That's the whole point of us jumping into the snake pit. People at large can't find out."

"Story of a lifetime, and no-one will get to see it."

She sighed, wistful. "We'll think of something clever, and even if we don't: you heard the British vampire. We help him save humanity, and he gives us a cover story. Everyone's happy. Quid pro quo."

"Quid pro quo," he said quietly, and took a deep breath. "We're almost there, now, and before you ask again: no. I'm not gonna bail. If you pull a Lois Lane, then I pull a Jimmy Olsen. This is non-negotiable."

"You and me all the way, Lopes," she said, and ruffled his dark hair. "Let's go play with the neighbourhood monsters."

* * *

 **4** **They were halfway back to Port Angeles, specifically by Lake Helen in the Lassen Volcanic National Park.** The landscape was ruggedly beautiful: the still, nearly circular lake was nestled between jagged, grey mounts whose slopes were lined by dark-green pine trees. The hills' crests were sprinkled with snow. The lake reflected the deep blue of the clear sky.

"I always liked California," Bella told Jasper. She was standing still as stone, watching him, feeling the cold breeze but registering no emotional response caused by it. As a human, she would have complained, because it had been almost a hobby of hers to complain about the weather. Now, she didn't care. It was somewhat strange to admit this, but caring about anything other than herself seemed rather impossible. To be perfectly honest, there'd been little she ever cared about even before becoming an immortal. "I insisted Charlie take me here to vacation with him for two weeks a year, instead of being bored in Forks for a month. He didn't approve, saying something about how our time together got cut short in half, but I put my foot down. Those were my vacations, and I wanted to bask in the sunshine."

"Good on you, girlfriend," Jasper said, briefly smirking up at her. He was kneeling by the lifeless body of Renesmee, who was sprawled on the stony ground.

The reason for this pause was that while they were running, Bella had not only felt Renesmee's neck starting to fix itself again, she'd also realised that the girl's body had been getting heavier. Renesmee was technically dead, was not breathing, didn't have a metabolism, and yet, she was still growing. Therefore, Jasper had suggested they stop for a few minutes and examine the child, see if she might be a threat to them – well, not them specifically, but others around them. Bella and Jasper were both immune, which was another thing that made them superior not only to mortals, but to regular vampires, as well.

"What do you think she might be capable of if we let her wake?" Bella said, deadpan, watching them without feeling the need to make a human expression appear on her flawless face.

"The real question is, what might she be capable of if we don't?" he said, and placed a hand on Renesmee's round, smooth little forehead. She was growing quicker than she had before, now looking like a first-grader at least. "I can feel her in my head, trying to persuade me to let her wake. It won't work, of course, just like my powers don't work on her, but I can still feel it." He glanced up at Bella again. The steely sunshine glinted in his red eyes and made his skin explode in a million sparkles. It was beautiful.

Beauty was always admirable, wasn't it? No matter at what price it came. If that wasn't true, then the torment of her transformation was worth nothing, and that was something she could not accept.

Oblivious of her musings, he added, "We need to take some extra precautions, here, darling. Believe me when I tell you that you don't want her to wake up, scream, and raise an army of zombies at a moment's notice. The Volturi tops will forgive us ditching the sappy werewolf-lover, but drawing even more attention to ourselves than we already have won't fly."

A sharp wind blew. A wispy cloud covered the sun for a brief moment. Bella shook some of her long, wavy hair out of her pale face. "Can we do anything apart from breaking her neck over and over again?"

"We can break her arms, too, for further security," he said, and shrugged. "I think we should silence her, as well, just to make sure, though that'll probably be permanent. Not that I'll miss those docile tones that would send Cthulhu running for the hills, screaming in agony."

Bella frowned. "Silence her? What…?" That, however, was when the proverbial penny dropped. "You want to remove her vocal chords."

The smirk returned with a vengeance. "And they say lil' Bella is stupid."

She smiled a little, almost feeling it. "And then, we can present her to Caius on a platter, tell him about Demetri's failure, and guarantee our special place with the Volturi."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, obviously gleeful. "Maybe superior ability does breed arrogance, but in most cases, the poor, inferior bastards are just jealous."

"I think so, too," she said, raising her hands to marvel at the glorious sparkly glitter shining from her impenetrable, beautiful skin. It was the skin of an immortal, the skin of a natural-born killer, the skin of utter perfection. "We're on our way to the top, Jasper, where we belong."

"Again, she's right on the money." He focussed his attention on the lifeless girl again. "Now let's take good care of you, sweetheart."

* * *

 **5** **It was the early afternoon when Caius's phone rang.** He had been trying to reach his obstinate underling for hours, now, but Demetri either couldn't pick up, or – and this was the less savoury alternative – simply refused to. Caius himself was inclined to believe the latter, keeping in mind how protective the boy had been of the wretched Quileute wolves, especially that impertinent and tactless female. What was with that lad and his bleeding heart? Didn't he know that werewolves were always the enemy, no matter how civilised they might seem? This was especially the case with the Quileutes, who were only capable of phasing into animals in the first place _because_ of the existence of vampires. They were the very definition of a vampire's natural enemy. How could Demetri not see that? How could he be so blinded by all that sentimentality he so stubbornly clung on to? It was quite vexing, to say the least.

Caius took the call and pressed the phone to his ear hard enough to make the small machine creak. "Tell me you killed the wolf and that you're en route to Port Angeles."

" _Caius, you have to listen to me_."

Well, of course. He exchanged a long-suffering look with Quirina, who was keeping him company whilst the other three were out to feed as discreetly as possible under the circumstances. They'd been following the growing media circus and the rather infrequent updates by the authorities, who were still in the process of sorting out the evidence collected at the ruins of the Cullen mansion. It was high time the vampires wrapped up their hazardous operation and returned to Volterra – high time indeed.

"You had your orders," Caius said icily, as he stared out the glass doors at the bay without registering a thing. His right hand shot up to his scarred throat. "Come back immediately."

" _I can't. Leah Clearwater is too badly wounded, and I-_ "

"I see you made your choice. The tribe's fate is sealed, then."

" _It doesn't have to be that way. We have an idea that will solve all our problems neatly, and I am positive that_ -"

"It has to be that way because you made your choice, Demetri. I told you to choose; you chose. That's all there is to it."

" _If you kill those people, you'll be making a huge mistake._ " Demetri was sounding more and more exasperated, but not really surprised. Well, if that was the case, he might as well just stop arguing, because all that did was waste time.

On the other side of the line, a female voice said, " _I hate to say I told you so, but…_ "

Ah, the illustrious and all-around popular Miss Clearwater. Charming. "Bring me the dhampir and stop arguing."

" _That's what I was trying to tell you: Jasper and Bella went rogue and stole the dhampir. They're currently on their way to you, I can sense that much, but there's no telling what exactly their agenda is_."

Caius gnashed his teeth together. It was all he could do not to punch through a wall and kill something. "What?" It was hardly above a whisper.

" _Listen: they are dangerous and can't be trusted, and that dhampir is even stronger than-_ "

"They can't be trusted? You're plotting with a damn werewolf, and _they can't be trusted?_ " When Caius felt Quirina's cool hand on his shoulder, he realised that he'd started to shout.

" _Caius, I am not plotting with anyone. I am doing my job and trying to help contain this thing_."

Coldly, Caius retorted, "I think you've helped enough. Bring me the survivors and then keep tracking the dhampir. Everything else you can just forget about. I'll not argue with you."

A little pause ensued. Then, in the background, a male voice – Chief Swan's, it had to be – said, " _Tell him, kid_."

"Tell me _what?_ " Caius barked, beyond irritated, and spun around to lock eyes with Quirina, whose brow was creased ever so slightly.

" _Check your phone for a video I just sent you_ ," Demetri said, his voice quiet but firm. " _If you don't agree to meet with me and my friends and listen to what we have to say, this will go straight to every social networking site on the planet_." He paused. " _I'm sorry, but you leave me no choice_. _I will not stand by idly and watch you commit genocide. It's a monstrous thing to do, and if I can stop you, I will._ "

As if on cue, Caius's phone bleeped. Again, he exchanged an irritated look with Quirina, but more than irritation, he now felt something that he hadn't in a very, very long time: a hint of insecurity. Pain flared in his throat. He thought of his last conversation with Aro, how unhappy the latter had been about the werewolf ultimatum, about Caius's handling of the crisis at hand. Also: would Demetri really go this far and actually blackmail his own general? If that was so, would this give Aro pause and cause him to reconsider his decision to back Caius in this matter? It might. It actually might. Aro had always been fond of experiments, including social ones, and he was susceptible to pacifist propaganda.

With a certain degree of trepidation, Caius downloaded the attachment, opened it, and watched in horror. He played the video file again and again and again. Then, he crushed the phone to his ear, and whispered, "You traitor."

" _No. I'm true to our people and our objectives as ever. Nevertheless, times are changing, and we need to change, as well, or perish_ ," Demetri said levelly. He most likely knew that at least for the moment, he had the upper hand. " _More death will only draw the humans' attention. That is something we can't afford. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say without trying to murder me, Leah, or Charlie. We have a way of regaining control over the situation._ "

"Come back here, and we'll talk," Caius said, and cut the connection. He let the phone drop to the thick carpeting as if it were burning his skin.

Quirina was eyeing him with what he identified as concern, even though most other vampires would not recognise it as such. She was Roman; her emotions were contained, her expressions minimalistic. "Alec should take care of them the moment they arrive."

"Yes," he said flatly. "It's an unnecessary loss, but I have no choice."

"Aro will find out. He will be displeased."

"I'll deal with that once the time comes." He only just refrained from raising a hand to his throat again. "As for now, let's tie up our loose ends, shall we, and then return home."

"Yes," she said, offering him the subtlest hint of a smile. "We'll kill them all and then burn the place to the ground."

* * *

 **6** **"Was it smart to let yourself be caught on film doing vampire-y things?" Leah said,** watching Demetri stash away his phone, as Charlie helped her change her bandage. The wound was healing quicker now that she actually didn't have to fight for her life every five seconds and that she'd forced herself to eat a bowlful of spaghetti. "You're running the risk of becoming the face of the supernatural for all the world, which could backfire spectacularly."

He stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket and shrugged. "We needed some leverage. It's for the greater good."

Charlie glanced at him, one eyebrow arched. "Usually a phrase people say to justify being jerks to others."

"Since I'm the one putting myself at risk, it shouldn't become problematic." The corners of his mouth twitched a little. "And before you say it, no, I most decidedly do not intend to make a noble self-sacrifice. I'm not that selfless. I want to ride off into the sunset just like everybody else, and I fully expect to do just that in the end." A little quieter, he added, "Just not at the expense of an entire tribe of people."

"Don't you worry about coming across as too martyr-y," Leah said, and drew in a sharp, ragged breath when Charlie applied antiseptic spray to her wound. "We'll all be putting our asses on the line very soon. I take it Albino Fucker will double-cross you – I mean, us?"

All the muscles in Demetri's face tightened. "Of course he will. He'll use Alec to rob us of our senses the moment we're in sight."

Leah grimaced. "What a great leader."

"Unfortunately, that is not something I have any sort of influence over. I-"

" _Wait_." Charlie stopped re-bandaging and sat up straight, half-turning to look at Demetri again. This time, both his eyebrows wandered up. "He can only immobilise who he can see? Did I get that right?"

"That is correct, yes, but hiding from a vampire, especially one that old, is not exactly easy."

"That's why we've enlisted Sam," Leah said, trying hard not to tense up. Man, this antiseptic stuff stung like a _mother_. At least the wound was slowly closing. The little things were what made life worth living, weren't they? "And that's why you've enlisted your mystery friends, too."

"Mystery friends," Charlie echoed, snorted, and finished applying the fresh bandage. "You really think it's a good idea to call _those_ people?"

The expression on Demetri's face became slightly amused, at least as far as Leah could tell. "Frankly, no, I don't," he said, "but I really don't see any other option. We need all the assistance we can get – that, and the distraction they'll provide. You'll agree that the distraction _has_ to work in order for everything else to work, as well."

"And the Big Gun?" Leah said.

A small smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "The Big Gun, too, but only once our plan's been set into motion."

"Don't you mean if, kid?"

"No, I mean once. This will work. It has to."

"It will," Leah said, thinking of Jared and Embry and Jacob and Seth everyone else who was never coming back, who was either corrupted or dead or just damaged beyond repair, one way or another. Maybe she was beyond good and evil, too. Maybe. Probably. Useless to whine about it. She straightened up. "Oh, it will."

* * *

 **7** **The man in the cell was not very tall, but broad-shouldered, muscular, and generally rather bulky.** He had long-ish, unevenly cut dark hair, the strands at the front reaching to his chin, the ones at the back down to his shoulders. Judging by the ratty shirt, moth-eaten doublet, and knee-length hose he was wearing, he hadn't changed his clothes since the Renaissance.

 _They really made them to last, back then_ , Irina thought dryly.

Vampires' figures didn't change when they starved, but one could see the malnutrition in their pitch-black eyes and the half-crazed, haunted looks on their perfectly symmetrical faces. The man was chained up, albeit not as tightly as Fiora. When the two guards opened the door, he – Atenulf, that was his name – twitched where he was lying on the stone floor.

"Irina, if you please," Aro said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's too weakened and can't hurt you. We need to find out whether the creature's hold on him can be broken."

"I understand," she said quietly, and looked the chained-up wretch straight in the eye. "I'm sorry. This is going to hurt."

Biting another vampire was not the same as biting a living creature with a beating heart. No-one knew exactly what a vampire was, precisely. Were they animated corpses? Were they new lifeforms entirely? Were they propelled by some sort of curse or magic? Their skin was harder to break and, for all intents and purposes, they didn't have a circulation. However, they could still be slowed down by another vampire's venom; they could also, which was a whole other level of inexplicably strange, have sex. How did that work? No-one knew. As scientific discoveries advanced, the answers would probably come one day, but up until now, the inner workings of a vampire's body were a complete and utter mystery.

At this precise moment, though, such musings were pretty moot. Irina darted into the cell, sank her fangs into Atenulf's throat, pumped her venom into him, and scurried back outside. Atenulf uttered a weird, gurgling cry, convulsed, and started shaking uncontrollably. His eyelids fluttered. Spittle flew from his mouth.

"Does your bite always have this effect on others of our kind?" Aro said, sounding genuinely curious.

"It has, so far. My sisters always say that I'm pure poison," she replied, feeling a sting of sadness pierce her guts at the thought of them.

They must be so worried about her. Here was to hoping they'd stay put as ordered. The last thing Irina wanted was to cause them pain, even indirectly.

No.

Actually, the last thing she wanted was for them to _hurt_ , no matter what the cause of the pain was. That was more accurate and made other people's potential suffering less about how she might feel about it. It wasn't easy, curbing her selfish tendencies – the selfish tendencies someone who was basically immortal was bound to get – but she was trying. She felt that she had to. Self-awareness was, she was told, the first step to recovery, and there was a lot of recovery ahead of her.

"I'm sure your sisters mean it affectionately," Aro said, a smile in his voice, and then addressed the two guards: "Dear ones, please take him to Fiora's cell, but be careful. Weakened though he might be, he's still very dangerous."

Wordlessly, the two went about their business. Atenulf was in no condition to fight them, being weakened and chained up and poisoned and probably insane. He wasn't breathing, but he was twitching and convulsing. His fangs came out and went in again. His eyes rolled back, so that only the whites were visible. His mouth hung open, venom dripping from his gums.

If Irina hadn't met Fiora first, he'd definitely be the most pitiful creature she'd ever seen. This was so, so awful. She felt Aro brushing his fingers against her hand.

"I know," he said. His voice was level. There was something like compassion in it, but it was impossible to tell whether the sentiment was genuine, whether it was faked for her convenience, or even whether she was only imagining it in the first place. "Yes, I do keep him locked up and starved as some kind of penance, but also because he used to be a loyal member of my coven, and I really want to exhaust all options before resorting to execution."

Thinking about her first meeting with Fiora, Irina couldn't help but again think that death would probably be the kinder option.

"Mm," he made, and chuckled dryly. "Probably, yes. But there is still hope. He cannot help the corruption. Maybe you can, though. Come on, now, dear. Let's hope for the best whilst preparing for the worst."

The two guards – tall dark woman and short-ish pagan Germanic man – had dragged the helpless Atenulf to the end of the corridor, where they stopped, not letting go of his arms or the chains that bound him. They were wired and tense and obviously prepared to act at a moment's notice. It was impossible to tell whether they approved of the order, disapproved, or were indifferent to it. What was obvious was their visible apprehension. No, that wasn't correct. This wasn't apprehension at all. It was fear.

This didn't exactly fill Irina with a lot of confidence.

"Let's hope you're wrong," Aro said, let go of her hand, and moved to Fiora's cell in a flash. He smiled down at Atenulf, who blinked up at him with an expression of horror and desolation on his ashen face. "And let's hope for your sake that this experiment is the one that finally yields a positive result, my lad. Either way, your suffering will soon be over; I promise you that." He exchanged looks with his guards. "Are you ready?"

Both guards nodded curtly.

"Irina?"

"Yes," she said, and moved closer. Her muscles coiled, and she felt the urge to let the fangs out. There was no need for that, yet, but there was also no harm in being prepared.

Aro unlocked the cell door. His smile broadened, making him look oddly boyish, like a kid waiting to set off particularly spectacular fireworks. He was giddy. He was actually giddy and obviously hopeful. "Ready?"

They were as ready as they would ever be, Irina figured.

The guards nodded again, terse and ready to jump at the slightest sign of trouble.

Atenulf's pitch-black eyes grew even wider.

"All right, then," Aro said, and opened the door.

* * *

 **8** **The address Matthew Darcy, a.k.a. Demetri the Vampire had given June led to a pretty white bungalow by the side of the road** , only one block away from the beach. A jeep was parked in front of it. The house wasn't very large, but it was obviously looked after with a lot of care. It was in much better shape than June's apartment back in New York, that was for sure.

She parked the Beetle by the driveway and turned off the engine. For a moment, she and Jerry just sat there in awkward silence.

Finally, she said, "Nothing for it, then. Let's get this over with," opened the door, and hopped outside into the rain. It wasn't bucketing as hard as it had been five minutes ago, though, and the weather forecast predicted sunshine for tomorrow. All in all, there was no reason to complain. She waited for Jerry to follow her lead, locked the car, stuffed the key into her jacket pocket, and trudged up the driveway to the bungalow's front door.

"You got your taser ready?" Jerry said flatly.

"Not helping, you know," she replied, ignored her wildly beating heart as best she could, and rang the doorbell.

A couple of seconds later – the ding-dong's aftersound was still lingering in the air – the door was opened, revealing a very tall, broad-shouldered young man who glowered down at June out of dark eyes. It was the same guy who'd told her to get lost, earlier. Coincidences, coincidences.

"Hey, remember me? I'm-"

"I already told you that I know who you are. Come in," the young man said huffily, stepping aside.

"You _must_ be the charming Mister Uley we heard so much about," Jerry said, deadpan, and followed June into the house.

"Let's cut the crap and just get this nonsense over with, shall we?" Probably Sam Uley said, and it didn't seem like he was even trying to hide his irritation.

"Right," June said, deliberately chipper, and clapped her hands together. "Vampires to catch, werewolves to save. Now what's the plan, boss?"

Uley frowned even harder. Wow. That had got to be painful to keep up for more than a few seconds at a time. For shame. Hadn't his dear mom taught him that if he scowled and pouted long enough, the clock might strike, leaving him stuck with that expression forever? "Leah shouldn't have told you."

"It was a guy who told us," Jerry said, annoyance seeping into his own voice, "and yes, he should have. Even if not, he did, so stop complaining and deal with it. We have to work together, so let's really cut the crap and actually _work_ together. You can spare me the righteous anger routine, pal, coz I'm from Brooklyn and that shit don't fly with us, understand?" The deliberately inserted Brooklyn accent came courtesy of the house, as was the Way of the Lopes.

June elbowed him in his protruding ribs. "Nice speech, bunny."

"Thank you." He tugged down on his sweater and gave Uley a look that just dared him to do something about the sass. Jerry might be half the guy's size and not even a third his weight, but he'd never been one to be intimidated by pure physical force.

Miraculously, Uley's frown dissipated, and he even chuckled, shaking his head. "There's always need for brave people, and you two seem to have enough of that to spare." Yeah, no, it wasn't exactly an apology, but better that than getting one's butt kicked. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and headed toward the living room. "Come on in. Let's talk shop."

"Oh, let's," June said, grabbed Jerry's arm, and towed him along. This crazy scheme might actually work. It might kill them, too, but it wasn't her style to be pessimistic. No, it would work. Nobody would sing their praises for it, but they'd help save the world, and in the end, a good world-saving was its own reward.

* * *

 **9** **The afternoon was wearing away when Leah and co. finally decided to pack it up and leave Mexico.** It was Maria's recommendation, too. She was still in the midst of the cover-up, but the longer the trio of foreigners stayed, the greater the chance of discovery became. Also, it shouldn't take American authorities much longer to find out about the connection between Demetri and Charlie Swan, so they'd probably put out an APB fairly soon. It could only be a matter of days at the most. They needed to get their move on, and quickly.

Leah still wasn't able to do much physically, but she kept assuring the worried menfolk that she was okay to travel. She even managed to redress the bandage by herself before they took off, although her attempt to walk down the stairs was a bit of a failure, and she grudgingly asked Demetri to carry her down into the living room. Before she could whine at him, however, he said that he was having none of it and that it was not a sign of weakness to admit that sometimes, people needed to rely on each other and that there were problems one could not solve without help.

Okay, point went to Yuppie Vamp yet again. He definitely had a habit of making sense on a regular basis, didn't he? History would decide whether this was adorable or annoying or perhaps a mix of both.

After she and Charlie forced themselves to eat the rest of the spaghetti, they packed whatever they needed and took off, but not before receiving guarantees from Maria that she'd take care of all loose ends and that she had nothing to do with Jasper's little riot act.

Demetri assured her that he believed her, helped Leah settle down on the rental car's backseat with a number of pillows and a blanket, told Charlie that the designated driver should always be the guy who required no sleep and not a person suffering from a concussion, and hopped behind the steering wheel. Then, they drove off toward the Mexico-USA border, hoping for the best but not expecting much of an eventual awesome turnout. It would already be a bit of a miracle if they managed to save the Quileute people, so that was what Leah would focus on.

"Did your friends say when they'll be able to meet us?" Charlie said from the passenger seat, and yawned.

Leah had been on the verge of dozing off, herself. Sleep was a luxury good, these days, and she had just taken the last of the heavy-duty pain meds, too.

"They'll call me, but I'd say tomorrow, when we reach the rendezvous point."

"You have quite a track record of hanging out with freaks, don't you?" Leah said drowsily, watching the golden light of the setting sun reflecting off the sky-scrapers they were passing by. "Me, our newest co-conspirators…"

"Well," Demetri said, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror, smiling slightly, "it takes one to know one, as the saying goes."

"True that, brother," she said, and allowed her eyes to close. Her lids had just gotten too damn heavy. A few deep breaths later, she fell into a dark, heavy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **10** **It was already dark when Jasper, Bella, and the newly modified Renesmee reached Port Angeles, but the darkness didn't matter.** Vampire eyes were far superior to human or even werewolf eyes, and so, it took only the smallest amount of light for Bella to be able to see with perfect clarity. The post-transformation blindness was a thing of the past, even if the pain of those months was still fresh in her mind. It didn't matter, though. All that living human blood she'd consumed helped her control her feelings, helped her detach herself from whatever humanity she might have left lingering in her brain. She'd taught herself to think of this as a good thing, a necessary thing. Human Bella had been weak and pathetic. Vampire Bella was perfect in every way. It was as simple as that.

She was a vampire – no point in pretending otherwise. It made far more sense to embrace her nature and revel in it. Being monstrous might be evil, but if evil was superior, then why should it bother her that she might be judged by so-called good, but weak people? If those creatures were her prey, things she drained dry for sustenance, did it even make sense to think of them as people? Not in a practical sense. Alice had once said that it helped to think of humans as people, but she'd meant to say that this made it easier not to kill them. Bella now understood that killing was her nature. The need to even pretend that humans were anywhere near the same level of an immortal was gone.

"See that building over there, right by the bay, with the balconies?" Jasper said, pointing ahead, toward the water.

They were by the side of a street or other (what did human denominations even matter?), where no-one could spot them. Human sight was so puny. The world's most lethal predator might be lurking in the shadows not ten feet away from them, and they couldn't even see them. Pathetic. Weak. Hideous. _Human_. She now remembered how useless she had been, how lethargic, just because she'd lacked the strength and invulnerability to fight alongside the others. Now, though, should she choose to unleash all her might upon humanity, they would tremble in fear before her.

Smiling with what she was sure was beautiful ferocity, she said, "I see it. The hotel."

"Yes, ma'am. We'll be there in a couple minutes, presenting our trophy to Caesar."

The smile grew into a grin. "And then, we'll collect our reward."

Out of nowhere, he grabbed her by the hair, pulled her to himself, and crushed his lips against hers. When he pulled back, he was grinning. "Finally, you've become the right kind of monster, Miss Swan – a monster made in my own image."

"I have," she said, staring in awe at his unique, scarred yet beautiful face, nearly forgetting the fact that she was carrying what must be the most dangerous child in the universe. "And we have eternity to enjoy that."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

 **1** **When Jasper, Bella, and Renesmee reached the hotel where Caius and his entourage were staying,** the short and androgynous-looking woman named Corin was already waiting for them in the lobby. Not being an idiot, Jasper had gotten the Volturi leader's number before even leaving La Push for Tijuana, and had called him before agreeing to meet. Bella almost asked him why they didn't contact Caius earlier, but it didn't matter. They were here. This was their great moment. It was _her_ great moment. Finally, her time to shine had arrived.

As she followed Corin and Jasper, holding the 'sleeping' Renesmee in her arms, she couldn't help but remember her transformation, all the pain and horror and hopelessness. The torment had been so great, she had forgotten why Edward had bitten her, had forgotten the names of the people closest to her, had even forgotten her own name. Everything had seemed so pointless. She still remembered with perfect clarity how she'd thought that whatever benefits vampirism might bring, it could never be worth the unspeakable torture of transformation. The first few months had confirmed this, as had her first day as a functioning vampire.

Then, Jasper had replaced both Jacob and Edward, and had shown her that there was a way to achieve some sort of peace, derive some sort of satisfaction from her existence. Guilt was for mortals. She had no intention of ever going back to being useless, to feeling alien in her own body. Never again would she feel like her body was a stony fortress; never again would she be stupid and slow and guilt-ridden and regretful. She'd asked herself a lot of questions; a particularly unpleasant argument with Edward came to mind, during which she'd come to the conclusion that she'd always loved the allure of his sparkly perfection, but never him as a person.

Back then, this had made her want to reflect about herself and all her choices, but what good did that do? None. She understood that her choices had been naïve and selfish and pretty stupid. That didn't change a thing. It didn't undo the fact that she was a vampire, that she was a technically dead and an absolutely parasitic, supernatural creature that brought nothing but death and suffering to those around her. Why flagellate herself by feeling guilty and adhering to a diet that made her weak and stupid and that tasted like hot garbage, as Jasper had so aptly put it? Why not, instead, wash her hands of guilt and just exist the way her nature demanded? It was so much easier. Guilt was a bag of bricks. She had no intention of carrying it around for the rest of eternity…however long that might be. It might only be a few more days. It might, on the other hand, be thousands of years. Who wanted to wander the Earth dressed in rags, doing penance, feeling guilty for crimes that could not be undone, anyway? What good would that do to the loved ones of those who had been killed? The dead would remain dead. There was no changing that.

No, Bella had no use for guilt, and neither did anyone else with half a brain. It was a human concept that only applied to humans. She was a vampire. She was above and beyond any of it – all of it. Forever.

In the hotel room waited Caius, Chelsea, Alec, and Jane. The balcony doors were closed and the thick curtains pulled shut.

"Put the dhampir on the bed in the larger bedroom," Caius said, without preamble.

This was fine by Bella. She was beyond wishing for any pleasantries and small talk. Heck, she'd never been much of a social person even while human. Without saying a word, she carried her motionless daughter into said room and placed her on the bed. The girl had grown. How was this even possible? Well, it soon wouldn't be Bella's problem anymore. She'd never wanted kids, anyway. She'd never wanted to be a teenage housewife stuck with an infant.

She'd never wanted to be her mom. That was the truth, plain and simple. Bella had always condescended to her mom to the point of contempt. Renée had made all the wrong choices; she'd gotten herself pregnant way too young, had married a dull man who never had any ambitions to better his lot in life, had never had the wits to make something of herself, and had ended up being completely ordinary. What kind of life was that? A happy one, a life full of joy and love, Renée always said, but what use did Bella have for human happiness anymore? She hadn't wanted it as a human, and now? Even if she once had, that ship had now sailed.

"Don't touch the little brat. She's mighty contagious," Jasper said, exaggerating his natural southern drawl in a way that just had to be deliberate. He and the others had followed Bella.

They positioned themselves around the bed and watched the unconscious little girl in silence for a while. She looked positively enchanting, with her creamy white skin, her flawlessly symmetrical features, her plump and dark-red lips, her thick chestnut curls. This was a perfect child, and yet, there was no place for her in this world. A pity, really.

"This is not the first dhampir we've ever dealt with," Jane, who was by the window, said flatly. She didn't emote, didn't blink, only breathed when she needed to speak. There was nothing human left in her anymore.

"According to Demetri, she is the most powerful one he's ever seen," Bella said, feeling something akin to pride as she returned Jane's look without flinching. Not only could tiny little Jane do nothing to harm her, but Bella could one-up her and every other vampire woman: she had given birth to a half-vampire child, which was special in and of itself, and her daughter was the most powerful dhampir in existence. There was no topping that. Why again had she doubted her own exceptionality? She was more special than she'd at first wanted to give herself credit for.

Caius pointed at the pinkish line crossing Renesmee's snow-white throat. "You removed its ability to speak?"

"We figured we shouldn't take the risk," Jasper said, from Bella's right side. He sounded chipper, as if commenting on the weather. It had been a good idea, too – pragmatic and efficient. This was Jasper in a nutshell…well, that and a healthy dose of sadism, but he had good reasons for this, and Bella really couldn't care less. "Her healing powers are amazing, and they keep getting stronger. She's been technically dead for a while, but she keeps growing."

"That's…that's pretty awful," Chelsea said, making a face, taking a step back toward the door. "Poor girl."

"This poor girl has condemned dozens of people to death. If it were up to her, she'd enslave the whole world, and she wouldn't be too squeamish about her methods, either. The humans she corrupted started rotting from the inside while they were still alive," Jasper said, sounding rather entertained. "She may look cute, but she's a nasty little monster."

"Which isn't her fault," Chelsea said, clearly not amused at all.

Jasper looked at her as if she'd said something particularly brain-dead. "Which makes no difference whatsoever."

"It's reasonable to assume that her powers will grow beyond vocal control," Corin said, her voice emotionless and level. She didn't seem like a person who had much tolerance for nonsense.

"They already have," Bella said, her own tone or posture expressing nothing. "She apparently can exert some sort of control over those she's infected even like this, with her neck broken."

Caius and Corin exchanged a brief look, as did Alec and Jane.

"We'll break more of its bones and tie it up," Jane said. "I'll watch over it. I suppose it will not be immune to my gift." She wasn't asking a question.

"No," Caius said, stepping slowly closer to the bed, his eyes fixed on Renesmee's lifeless, perfectly symmetrical features. "No. She's no threat like this."

All the other vampires looked at each other with varying degrees of irritation.

Chelsea said, "Boss-"

"It's my decision. There's no reason to waste more resources on this child. It will be enough to have her mother by her side."

"Okay, then," Jasper said, when no-one else would speak. "So, friends and allies, when do we wipe out the wolves?"

* * *

 **2** **For a moment, they all just stood there in front of that open cell, thunderstruck.** Atenulf was on the stone floor, on his knees, bound and secured. His black eyes were fixed on the girl in the cell; his face was a contorted mask of pure agony. He was shaking badly – not breathing, not blinking. He also made no attempt to move.

Aro lightly touched Atenulf's temple with his fingertips. His own eyes went wide. He looked down at his prisoner, then at the guards, then finally at Irina. A smile spread across his face; it was genuine and warm and incredibly mesmerising. Everyone was staring at him in awe, including Atenulf. It was impossible not to. To Irina, it felt as if the air became warm, but not only that. The warmth was palpable, almost like a living thing, pervading every frozen cell of her re-animated body, making her feel like she was a part of nature again, making her feel like she had living tissue, making her feel _alive_. How could one not stare at the source of such contagious happiness, of such relief, slack-jawed and in wonder? He was like sunshine after a thousand years of nuclear winter. It was nothing short of amazing. She couldn't help but smile, and neither could anyone else. Even Fiora in her cell was smiling, her big, round, brown eyes brimming over with tears that spilled down her flawless cheeks.

That was when it hit Irina. Fiora, the powerful dhampir that had brought an empire to its knees with the power of her mind, was now under the spell of the emperor's overwhelming charm.

So was her father.

Atenulf was smiling, first at Aro, then at his child. His eyes were still black and he must still be in awful pain, but for the moment, it all didn't seem to matter as much. He was happy. He was out of his cell and seeing his baby and he was visibly _happy_.

There was no sign of him being coerced to help the girl escape. There was no sign of mind corruption at all.

Aro, who was still holding the fingertips of his right hand to Atenulf's snow-white temple, who was still seeing and hearing every thought the other vampire had ever had, smiled merrily; his pure and unadulterated joy was not only contagious, but also permitted only one conclusion. "Finally," he said, and it was a quiet sound of incredulity, of relief.

"Finally," Atenulf whispered back, and laughed.

* * *

 **3** **"There are, in my humble opinion, a lot of variables in this plan thing that we can't even hope to calculate,"** Jerry told June morosely, after they'd both just sat on her motel bed, legs outstretched, each digging into a nice bucket of sugary ice-cream in solemn silence for about ten minutes.

After their meeting with the barely civil Mr Uley, they'd driven back to Forks in order to gather their strength for the upcoming absurdities. Everyone knew the exact bat-place they needed to be at the precise bat-channel, but the problem was, there were too many people who needed to behave in an expected manner in order for anything even remotely work. If anyone decided to go off-script, then they'd all be very, very screwed.

"I'm just glad we're not openly mulling over the infallible plan," June said, mouth half-full with chocolate chip and vanilla. "The moment we talk about how we're gonna do what is when destiny will decide to throw us a curve-ball and derail the entire thing, because nobody wants to read the same shit twice. That would just be lampshading failure."

He made a face at her, wiped his lips with a napkin, and replied, "Everything is not a story, you know. We're not in a movie, and nobody wrote a script. This is our life you're pretending is some sort of cosmic fiction. There is no superimposed narrative rule of cool deciding what's gonna happen to us."

Unimpressed, she shrugged, said, "Call it a superstition, then," and heaped more ice-cream on her spoon. "Also, just relax, will ya? You heard both Sam and Demetri: vampires are predictable. They like routine. They always behave in a predictable way. We need to predict the variables of that range, and we have. We'll be fine." She stuck the spoon in her mouth and patted her friend's jeans-clad leg.

"I wish I had your optimism regarding the future," he said, and heaved what she knew to be a deliberately theatrical sigh.

She nudged him with her shoulder. "You know, my only regret will be not being able to tell anyone."

A moment passed during which neither of them said anything else. Then, out of the blue, he leaned over and placed a cool kiss on her temple. "I really hope that'll turn out to be true."

She smiled up at him. "It will, Lopes. Trust me."

They finished eating in peaceful, comfortable silence.

* * *

 **4** **"Caius won't pick up the phone again, but I'll text him once we've met our allies,** telling him when we'll get there, and where exactly this meeting is supposed to happen," Demetri said, keeping his eyes on the road and respecting the speed limit like the good boy that he was.

They were driving northward through California, had been for a few hours now. Leah had wanted to keep driving during the entire night, but both Demetri and Charlie had put the kibosh on that. Charlie said that his head was killing him and that he was always one second away from barfing all over the place. Leah, however, had the strong suspicion that the real reason was her stupid chest wound. It was healing, but being bumped around in a moving car on often sub-par roads wasn't exactly helping, and so, she'd grudgingly agreed to spend a few hours in a motel. When they set out very early the next morning, she couldn't help remarking that their little trio truly was the stuff of legends.

Demetri, wearing the last pair of contacts he still had on him, and hiding the epic vampire sparkle from the Californian sunshine, had replied that it was only about to get even more epic.

To this, Leah had had nothing to say. She had no idea how to feel about the people they were going to meet, about what that meant not only for their little comic book scheme, but for herself, for how she perceived herself, for what place she might have in a world that was changing faster than anyone could understand. She tried telling herself that it meant and changed nothing, but it did. This might be a meeting that, for want of a less melodramatic word, was portended.

"I'll make my own call as soon as the worst of the mess is over," Charlie said, dragging Leah out of her sullen ruminations. "Provided we don't get caught in the interim. I'm pretty sure the FBI is looking for me even as they try to find out whether my bones are among those of" – He pressed his fist to his lips and cleared his throat – "my former colleagues."

"Sooner or later, they'll be looking for me and Leah, too," Demetri said, driving by a slow, black-smoke-spitting truck. "In fact, they probably already are. They might not have connected the dots yet, as it were, but they will, and soon; everything that happened was way, way too conspicuous, and Ms Cassidy's little online guessing game pointed the spotlight right in my face."

"Mine, too," Leah said quietly, her voice croaky. She was still lying on the backseat, propped up slightly by pillows, trying to relax and therefore speed up the healing process. "And my people's. We're all in danger of discovery, and that vlog didn't help, but I don't blame her. She had no idea." Idly, she unwrapped a granola bar and started chewing on it. The more calories went in, the quicker she'd get on her feet again.

"Blame me and mine, instead," Demetri said, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror. "Traipsing around like we own the place. It was bound to backfire at some point."

"Nah, you're good," Charlie said, sipping coffee out of a thermos they'd borrowed from the beach house in Tijuana. He waved off, shrugged, and looked out the passenger-side window. "You don't kill people, you paint over the glitter, and you don't throw money in everyone's face all the time. Can't speak for the asshole threatening the Quileute community, or anyone else you usually work with, but you're okay."

"Just because I'm undead, it doesn't mean I have to behave like a barbarian."

Leah didn't even have to look at him to know that he was kidding. Yuppie Vamp and his dry sense of humour. "You sure you ain't actually British?" she said, mangling the English language on purpose, as well as drawling in a parody of a nearly unintelligible Texas accent. "Darned Red Coats. Gosh darn 'em all to motherfucking heck! Wait, that went wrong."

Charlie didn't look at her, but snorted dry laughter. Coffee spewed from his nostrils. "Dang it. Wasn't even that funny."

"No, it wasn't funny at all, as a matter of fact," Demetri said, calm and collected. "Her jokes are terrible."

She shoved the rest of the granola bar into her mouth, snickered, and closed her eyes. If she did end up crashing and burning, at least she'd burn and crash in the company of good people – of good friends.

* * *

 **6** **"** _ **Whatever this actually means, people, we've stumbled onto another baffling side of this huge mystery involving the so-called Cullen family.**_ _Are they time-travellers? Are they somehow able to slow their ageing? Are they undead? Is this some hyper-advanced form of plastic surgery? We'll keep you all posted. Thank you so much for watching, and don't forget to subscribe!_ "

The woman sitting in the middle of the old, battered couch flipped the equally battered laptop shut and sat back in stony silence. Only with the greatest effort did she resist running her strong, calloused fingers through her short, curly, nearly black hair. There wasn't a mirror around, but she felt a little light-headed and cold, meaning that despite the iron control she had on her body language and facial expressions, she couldn't stop her usually brown skin from taking on an ashen quality.

Everyone else present in the room, sitting next to her or just huddled around the couch, was just as silent, but not as controlled. Someone cleared their throat. Someone else shuffled their feet on the wooden-planks-covered floor. Fabric rustled. Knuckles popped. Teeth gnashed. The tension was so thick, it could be smelled, tasted, cut with a knife.

At some point, someone said, "Vampires." It was Ariel. His voice was thick and shaky. All his hatred, disgust, all his fear was poured into that one little word.

The woman on the couch knew exactly how he felt. She didn't want to say anything. She didn't want to have to make any kind of decision. Least of all did she want to tell her people that they needed to run again, that they were no match for those sparkling, living dead monsters. But if wishes were horses and all that. Bemoaning one's fate never changed a damn thing. She resisted the urge to scratch the thick scar that looked like it dragged down the right half of her face, opened her mouth to speak, and…

…her little old cell phone screeched its tinny ringtone into the room, making everyone jump.

A few people chuckled awkwardly.

She dug the phone out of the pocket of her washed-out jeans, squinted at the greenish display, didn't recognise the number, and took the call. "Who is this?" Here was to hoping to any deity that might be listening this was not the harbinger of a killing crew trying to pinpoint her and her people's precise location.

" _Blake_." The sweet-sounding young man's voice at the other side of the not-too-stellar connection made her skin erupt in gooseflesh. There was something just off about it, no matter how many times she told herself to just ignore it, something…something inhuman. " _Do you know who I am?_ "

"Sure." How was she supposed to forget one of the few friendly sparkling corpses she'd ever met? People around her were eyeing her with curiosity and suspicion. She stood up, motioned them to be patient, and stepped to the window, even though the shutters were drawn. All those curious faces were distracting, and she had a feeling that she was about to be forced to make one of the most important decisions of her life. "What do you want, Demetri?"

" _I want to find a way to save a whole tribe of werewolves, and if you help me and my friends, it could finally mean freedom from persecution for you and yours_." He didn't hold back. Never had.

She closed her eyes and breathed in a lungful of dusty, stale, warm air. "By all means, talk to me."

That same night, Blake and two of her people set out, travelling south, toward the Canadian-American border. Maybe the vampire was right. Maybe it really was time to bring about real change. In any case, this was no way to live. Something needed to change, for better or for worse, and she was tired of running.

* * *

 **7** **For most of the night, Caius stayed with Bella in Renesmee's room, quiet, taciturn,** staring at the little girl as if she were either the messiah or the antichrist. Bella could hear Renesmee's body fixing itself, her bones mending more quickly every time, her brain recovering from the lack of oxygen, her body maturing. Was it even possible to kill her? From Demetri, Bella had learned that most dhampirs were eliminated as soon as they were found, that all of them were eliminated eventually depending on how strong their powers were; but none had ever been as powerful as Renesmee Carlie Cullen. She was a marvel of nature, that child, part immortal and part human.

Okay, that description didn't make much sense as someone was either immortal or not, much as one was either pregnant or not. Then again, a few years ago Bella would have argued that someone was either dead or alive, and here she was, somehow both. That made her more undead than immortal, but the point was that she neither aged nor got sick, and…

…what had she been thinking about, again?

Oh, right, her daughter. Could Renesmee be killed for good? Could fire destroy her, or perhaps decapitation? Fire was the most likely candidate, especially because it was the only thing that could put a permanent end to a full vampire.

It was moot to ruminate about such things, anyway. They would all find out soon enough. Odds were, Bella's team would be able to closely observe the effects of fire on at least one enemy vampire and many enemy wolves.

"I wonder if she's dreaming," Caius said, not taking his eyes off the child.

From the room next door, Bella heard Caius's bodyguard, Corin, turn herself around in what had to be surprise. Bella herself was mildly intrigued by this reaction, as well. Caius hadn't, so far, struck her as the kind of person who gave a damn about someone's mental state or even dreams.

"She must be somewhat aware," she said, watching him. "She was able to influence Jacob Black, the wolf who had imprinted on her, even as her neck was broken. I'm pretty sure part of her knows exactly what's going on."

"Somewhat aware," he echoed lowly. "Trapped in between."

Bella felt herself frowning a little. "Yes," she said, wary. "I think so." What was going on with him, anyway? Not that she knew him at all well, but from what she'd so far gathered, he wasn't exactly the philosophical type.

Then again, this was a several-millennia-old vampire, and Renesmee was, for all intents and purposes, the most fascinating child on the planet. If anything alleviated an immortal's boredom, it was ruminating about something new and unique and shiny.

He just kept staring at the lifeless child, a thoughtful expression on his beautiful, symmetrical, ethereal face.

* * *

 **8** **The moment had been magical, but magic never lasted forever.** After a few minutes, the two guards escorted a very meek, shivering yet smiling Atenulf back to his cell. Aro thanked them, dismissed them, and then did something Irina would not have expected him to do: he stepped into Fiora's cell, walked right up to her, and placed his snow-white hand on the side of her filth-encrusted face. Her tears had left lines on her cheeks, making it look like she was donning some sort of tribal war paint. She had her eyes fixed on her jailer.

He hunkered down, and Irina could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "So it does feel good, being on the same level as the rest of us, unable to coerce and force and pull strings on your meat puppets." A few seconds passed, and he chuckled. "Maybe. Maybe I should exclude myself from that assessment, but then again, I never wiped away anyone's mind, did I?" Again, there was a pause. "No, that's most certainly true. But I never wanted to. No, not even then. Now, I'll be able to prove it to you." He stood up straight again and half-turned to look at Irina. "Dear girl, I made you a promise, didn't I?"

Irina, who was standing right outside the cell, ready to intervene at a moment's notice, perked up. "You did."

Again facing Fiora, he said, "And I intend to keep it." From the pocket of his trousers, he produced a metal key that glinted silvery in the cell's harsh, cold, white light.

* * *

 **9** **It was already past noon when Leah and co stopped at the designated rest stop close to the California-Oregon border.** The place wasn't exactly deserted, but apart from the odd SUV packed with small-bladdered children and patient parents, there wasn't much going on. Demetri parked the car a little ways from the restroom building, under a leafless white oak, in as much shade as possible. The sky was blue and a pale sun shone down on them. The air was chilly.

After applying some more foundation to what little was exposed of his skin, Demetri stepped out of the car, followed by Charlie, who excused himself for a moment. Leah opened one of the back doors, slunk forward, and planted her bare feet on the slightly warmed concrete. It felt awesome, to say the least, as did the fresh winter air in her healing lungs.

"Let me take a look," he said, motioning at her torso with a subtle move of his chin. Sun glinted off the curve of his right earlobe, exploding in a million diamond-esque sparkles.

She squinted, pointed at the source of radiance. "Missed a spot, there, chief."

It only took a couple of seconds until he got her meaning. "Oh." In what could be considered quick human speed, he got his bag from under the seat and took care of business, before returning to her side. "Now please let me check your wound."

Although she considered protesting, even if it was only for show, she decided against it. Trivialities were all fine and dandy, but there was a time and a place. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned the large shirt she'd borrowed from the beach house and held her breath as he carefully removed the bandage, tossed it in a nearby trash can, examined the wound with his superman eyes, and re-bandaged it.

"What's the verdict, doctor? How long do I have to live?"

The corners of his mouth curved up in a little smile. "I can't give you any guarantees, but my prognosis is definitely on the optimistic side."

More unwilling than unable to help herself, she grinned at him. "Ready to rock'n'roll, is what _I_ am, pal."

"I hope it won't come to that," he said, serious again.

Buttoning up her shirt again, she said, "What are they like?" There was no need to explain what she meant.

"It's difficult to explain." He readjusted his scarf, buttoned up his jacket, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "They're wary. Careful. Hardened." After a little pause, he added, "They're good people who never hurt anyone."

"That's why you helped them."

He looked down at his feet and shrugged. "Me and others. I'm not the lone saint of the bunch. Don't ever think that."

She reached out and lightly punched his shoulder. It was like hitting concrete. "Too late, goodie-two-shoes."

That made him smile again. He looked at her. "Some people need all the help they can get. They never asked for it, but they weren't too proud to say no, either. They're survivors, through and through."

"I already like them," she said, and saw Charlie marching back from the facilities.

"They'll be very interested in your and yours."

Charlie planted himself next to Demetri and harrumphed. "Did I miss something world-changing?"

Leah opened her mouth to say something, but then, she saw three heavy-duty bikes approaching, occupied by people in thick leather jackets, gloves, and dark helmets. Demetri and Charlie followed her glance and turned around.

"That's them," Demetri said, taking his hands out of his jacket pockets. He raised his left for a slow greeting.

The three new arrivals stopped their bikes at a safe distance, dismounted, and just stood there for a while, helmets on, scrutinising the trio of human, wolf, and vampire. When Leah was about to get fidgety – she only barely managed not to stupidly jump to her feet – one of the helmeted figures, the shortest one, slowly walked towards them. At about ten feet away from Demetri, the person removed their helmet and tucked it under their left arm. It was a woman; she was black, had short hair, soft features, looked to be around fifty, and was very obviously very fit. She had an interesting face; two long, thick, ragged scars ran from her cheekbone to her jaw.

Unwittingly, Leah had to think of Emily.

Ah, Emily. Emily had tried to do the right thing, but in the end, getting half her face torn off had convinced her that what Sam felt for her _must_ be true love. After all, what woman wouldn't swoon if she turned down a man and that man then proceeded to violently attack and disfigure her? What a dreamboat!

Leah almost slapped herself in her annoyance. There was a time and a place for dumb, sarcastic internal monologues, too. That was what all this stupid drama had done to her. What next? A hysteric case of the giggles? At this point, everything was plausible.

"Introductions?" the woman said to Demetri. Her big, dark-brown eyes kept flickering to Leah.

"Blake, these are my friends, Charlie and Leah," Demetri said, not moving, not taking his eyes off the woman. "Charlie, Leah, this is Blake. She is the leader of the last clan of Children of the Moon in the western world."

She meant to ask whether Blake was a first name, a last name, or a pseudonym, but the words got stuck in Leah's throat. This didn't just happen because now would be the worst time for sass. She couldn't even say why exactly, but all of a sudden, her throat was constricted, her hands were cold, and her heart was thundering. Were she to stand, she'd surely just see stars and fall on her ass. All of this was…it was…overwhelming. Here she was, face to face with a creature out of legend, but it was more than that; the Quileutes were not the only werewolves around.

Slowly, carefully, and after motioning at her two companions to stay put, Blake came closer, until she was at arm's length from Demetri. Her eyes were fixed on Leah. "Is it true that you and your brothers and sisters can turn into wolves at will?"

Leah opened her mouth, couldn't speak, felt hot in the face, cleared her throat, and managed to nod. "Yeah," she croaked out. What the hell was wrong with her brain? Was this how teenagers felt when they were face-to-face with their favourite pop-star? "Yes."

Blake smiled a little. It lit up her whole face. Demetri was right: this was a hard, wary, careful woman, but only because circumstances had forced her to be that way. Beneath the self-protective wall, there was warmth. It made sense to Leah. Only a leader who could empathise with their charges, who could share pain and joy and sorrow and love could ever be a good one.

"Do you also retain your human minds when in animal form?"

Again, Leah nodded. "We do."

The smile grew wider. The skin around Blake's eyes crinkled. "To think that we never even knew the likes of you existed – a whole new kind of werewolves, living right here in America, oblivious of all the death and suffering that has plagued our kind for millennia. It's beautiful. _You're_ beautiful."

"So are you," Leah said, her voice firm and clear again. She meant it, too.

"Okay," Blake said, her pleasantly sonorous voice almost merry. She turned on her boot heels and beckoned to her friends, before locking eyes with Demetri. "We're in."

Leah's heartbeat exploded again. It was on, then. It was _so_ on. A day from then, all their fates would be decided. For better or for worse, this whole sorry business would be over with. Even if it all went to hell, at least she could die with the certainty of having lived a lucky, happy, and certainly extremely interesting life filled with extremely interesting people.

She also couldn't wait to tear that evil fucker Jasper into a million shards and throwing every last one of them into the fire.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

 **1** **When Aro unchained Fiora, Irina couldn't help but tense up,** even though she didn't want to make the situation worse by signalling discomfort. However, even she had trouble reminding herself that there was real danger, because Aro's happy enthusiasm at the experiment's success was so contagious, it was virtually impossible to resist its appeal.

"I understand that all you ever wanted was to be loved by all," Aro said, unlocked the thick metal collar around Fiora's neck, and dropped it on the floor. It clanged loudly, the sound reverberating off the stone walls. The girl held still, just stared up at him with a wary expression on her nearly skeletal face. "But that's impossible. No-one enjoys universal approval." He hunkered down, unlocked the heavy cuffs holding her ankles together, and chuckled lightly when his skin brushed hers. "No, not even me."

Fiora looked rather doubtful. Irina knew how she felt. It was hard to believe that anyone with that incredible power of true charm could not make basically everybody he met like him, or at least be fascinated by him.

After he freed her of the chain around her skinny torso, he went on to un-cuff her wrists, to which her eyes grew even larger. Her plump red lips parted in a silent, gobsmacked question.

He smiled down at her with warmth, the hostility he'd displayed toward the girl in Irina's presence either gone or at least very well hidden. "Because like this, you're not a threat to anyone; that's why. Don't get too excited, though, all right? I'll let you move freely in here and watch your progress. If this state you're in can be kept permanently, then maybe I'll let you leave this cell and stay somewhere more comfortable. Would that be a fair compromise in your eyes?"

Still staring at him with unmistakeable wariness, she slowly nodded. Even though she was no longer chained to the wall, she didn't move. Irina didn't think that she'd be physically able to, after that many centuries spent in complete immobility.

"I'll call for water, human food, and some fresh clothes for you," Aro said, rose to his feet, and walked out of the cell, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went. Before he closed the door, he glanced at Fiora over his shoulder. "If you believe in any form of higher power, now would be the time to pray that this solution really is the miracle we were all waiting for."

Little later, a few vampire guards brought the requested items: bread, beef, a whole gallon of water, and a clean cotton-shirt-and-trousers combination. It was a little strange to observe these centuries-old, trained warriors tremble and quail before this tiny little girl in the stone cell, but they hurried so quickly in and out of the place, even Irina had trouble following their motions. She didn't know what the best part of this new development was: the fact that the vampires were not being at all compelled to help Fiora escape, or that Fiora herself was finally not chained to the wall like an animal anymore. This was a sentient, sapient person. She did not deserve to be in constant agony – no-one did. Not even the likes of Jasper Whitlock, one of the most unapologetic psychopathic people she'd ever had the misfortune to meet.

"Can I go in there and help her? I don't think she's able to change her clothes like this."

Aro gave Irina a long, thoughtful look, before he nodded his quiet approval and opened the cell door for her.

This time, when the lock clanged shut, Irina didn't even flinch. Right now, this emaciated young woman lying sprawled on the floor was not one of the most powerful, destructive monsters on the face of the Earth. Right now, this was a helpless person who couldn't even stand by herself. Standing by idly whilst she crawled around on the cold stone floor would just be cruel.

Fiora didn't flinch either as Irina handed her the food, which she wolfed down with an expression of both pain and relief on her face, using both trembling hands, as if she hadn't eaten in centuries. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe they really hadn't fed her out of fear. Maybe it had been necessary to keep her as weak as possible. Whatever the reasons for Fiora's pitiful state, at this very moment, they were gone. She'd regain some of her dignity. Aro was right: here was to hoping that this cure really was permanent, or at least that it could be made permanent via regular applications.

When she was done eating, Irina said, "Would you like me to help you wash?"

The girl nodded. Very carefully, Irina helped her get out of the decaying, filthy rags she was in and used what was left of the cold water to wash the grime away. She meant to save some for Fiora's long, dark, knotted hair, but Fiora shook her head, grabbed one of the strands, and made a cutting motion with her other hand.

"I haven't got any scissors on me," Irina told her, "but my fingernails should do. Do you want it really short?" Again, Fiora nodded. "All right. Pinch me if it hurts." It was amazing. Irina could come in contact with Fiora's skin and not see, hear, or feel anything unusual. There were no visions. There were no voices in her head. Right now, this was an ordinary girl – well, as ordinary as dhampirs went, but still. It was nothing short of amazing.

Not long after, the – probably not saveable, anyway – clumps of hair were on the floor, and Fiora looked like a different person altogether. Her hair was cropped short, her face was clean, and there was a healthy, rosy flush on her cheeks. The disgusting rags she'd been wearing were gone, and the long-sleeved cotton shirt and beige trousers combination made her look like someone out of a 1970s sci-fi movie. She ran her thin fingers across her short hair, looked at her clean hands, and cracked a lovely, toothy smile at Irina.

It was impossible not to return the expression. "You're welcome. Are you feeling better?" Again, there was a nod. "Would you like me to help you stand? It'll be good for you."

That was when Aro opened the door from the outside and stepped in. "Allow me." His expression was solemn.

Irina glanced at him and then at Fiora, frowning, unsure, but the girl only had eyes for him. Well, they had baggage. To say that both of them probably had mixed feelings about each other might be the understatement of the millennium.

"All right," Irina said, stood up, and backed away.

Wordlessly, Aro crossed the distance to where Fiora was sitting and held out a hand. Staring at him, moving slowly, Fiora reached out, took it, and allowed him to pull her to her feet with no effort at all. She stumbled. Her knees buckled, gave out. She would have crashed down, but he held her by the upper arms, steadied her as she grabbed him by the jacket for support. A human's body would not have been able to recuperate this quickly after being immobilised for long. A vampire's body wouldn't have any problems at all. A half-vampire, however, was of course somewhere in between. She was breathing hard, trembling, lips pressed together tightly. A moment later, she'd steadied herself. This was amazing. She was strong, despite her frail appearance; there was no denying that.

Carefully, he let go of her arms, the hint of a smile lighting up his face when she didn't totter. "Would it be terribly tacky to paraphrase Neil Armstrong?"

Fiora looked down at her bare feet as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, then back at Aro. Her face went pale, her lower lip started trembling, her eyes were brimming with tears. Without preamble, she threw her skeletal arms around his neck, pressed her forehead against his collarbone, and broke into voiceless sobs.

For a few seconds, he just stood there, unsmiling, a little tense. Then, he closed his eyes and very carefully put his arms around her waist. "All right," he said, in a quiet tone. "It's all right."

Irina just stood there, watching them, trying not to think about how much she'd like to be able to cry, too. This wasn't about her. This was their moment. _Finally_ , he'd said earlier. Yes. Finally. The curse was broken. There was no reason to believe that this solution could not work permanently. Maybe the entire vampire world would change because of this, but right then and there, the only thing that mattered was that Fiora was no longer a monster. Her world had changed. Sometimes, saving one single person could matter more than trying to fix the whole world.

* * *

 **2** **Leah was lying on the rental's backseat, thoughtfully chewing on the third sandwich from the bunch they bought at a gas station along the way.** They were now well into Oregon, heading north as quickly as the speed limit allowed. Not far behind, Blake and her two friends followed on their (pretty awesome) bikes. Brand-new werewolves. Well, actually, very old werewolves. Their kind was probably a good deal older than Leah's. Not that it mattered. The fact that they existed at all was incredible. As if they'd jumped right out of some old legend, here they were, alive and indomitable and kicking ass as they went. To think that Leah's people and Blake's had never even heard rumours of each other. It probably wasn't all that surprising, but still. The mind got blown away all the same.

To think that the Children of the Moon had been hunted to near extinction by Psycho Albino and his evil minions.

 _Dibs on the band-name_ , she thought wryly, closed her eyes, swallowed the rest of the sandwich, wiped her lips, and tried hard to ignore the mother of all itches underneath her bandage.

The wound was healing nicely, being aided by the mountains of food she was consuming, but she was perfectly aware of the fact that she would be nowhere near fit to fight the next day. Demetri had assured her a dozen times that they weren't going to win this thing by fighting, anyway, but there certainly was no harm in being prepared. They'd be getting home sooner than she wanted, actually, even without all the extinction-event shenanigans going on. She didn't want to complain or anything, not even internally, but man, life sure was rather crappy these days. How in the hell was she supposed to waltz back into La Push and tell Billy that his son was dead? That she had killed him? Yeah, she knew that her choices had been pretty limited, and she suspected that Billy wouldn't hold it against her, but still. Still.

Oh, Jacob. Poor, poor Jacob.

This was all so fucking wretched. He'd been gone. There'd been no saving him. She knew that. She firmly believed that she'd done the only humane thing for him, that she'd helped him the only way she could. Did it make anything better? Nope. He was still gone forever. His dead body was still wrapped up in a sheet and in a plastic tarp and stuffed into the trunk. They would still have to deliver him to his dad like this. No-one would ever see him again, talk to him, listen to him whine, laugh at one of his dumb jokes, worry about him every time he went out on wolf patrol. No, those days were gone. He was dead. There was no future waiting for him, bright or otherwise.

Not wanting to think herself into a bawling fit, Leah let her thoughts wander to her little brother, instead. Yeah. Not all that cheery a subject in and of itself, was it? Unwittingly, she remembered their last confrontation at Castle New Money, the things he'd screamed at her via wolf telepathy, the fact that he'd tried to kill her. Her neck itched. Irritated, she rubbed the still slightly roughened skin where he'd bitten her. It hadn't been his fault, she knew that, but somehow, this knowledge brought little comfort. He'd called her a hateful bitch who was completely unlikeable and who always hung around where she wasn't wanted. Sure, his attitude had been a result of Re-name-me's mind corruption, but ever since he'd entered puberty, Seth and Leah had butted heads a lot, to her great grief. She simply couldn't help but wonder whether these awful things he'd thrown at her in his rage hadn't had a basis in truth. Maybe he really did feel that way about her, and the demon-spawn's influence had only made it all so much worse.

Maybe. Maybe not. Probably a little. Whatever.

Her throat constricted and her stomach knotted. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, balled her hands into fists, and poured all her energy into staying in control. What the hell was wrong with her, wallowing in self-pity like this? Jeez. It didn't even matter if Seth honestly held her in contempt or not. The only thing she should be worrying about was that he stay alive to snap at her…

…okay, that and the question whether demon-baby's infection could be exorcised out of him. That was a problem. That was a huge problem, actually. It was, however, a problem for another day. Right now, they all had other things to worry about, like stopping a genocide. Everything else would have to wait.

* * *

 **3** **"Caius? Your phone beeped. I think you got a message."** Corin moved from the hotel suite's living area to the side of her boss, inside the master bedroom. She was holding his cell in her bony hand.

He was standing by the bed, still as stone, watching the unconscious, unmoving Renesmee with a transfixed expression on his face. "This one is even more powerful than Fiora," he said in a quiet, thoughtful tone. "I didn't think that it could be possible. How can it be? Aro will want to keep her; I know it."

"He won't want two of them in Volterra," Corin countered flatly, still holding out the phone to him. Apparently, being blatantly disregarded didn't faze her all that much. "What if they could link telepathically? Fiora nearly destroyed us all. Aro won't risk-"

"I know what you want to say, but _I won't kill Renesmee_ ," Caius cut in brusquely, still not looking at Corin. "She's too powerful. It would be too much of a waste. We can use her to crush all our enemies. With her on our side, no-one could ever dream to oppose us again! Can't you _see_?"

Bella watched them in silence, not blinking, not breathing, not moving. It had only been yesterday that she'd fed, but even so, she couldn't quite ignore the burning and itching sensations clawing at the back of her throat. All around their suite – in the other rooms in the corridors the elevators the balconies the staircases the street outside holy crow – there were humans. Humans. Live humans. The sound of their hearts beating, of their blood pulsing through their veins was hard to bear, even when she wasn't drawing in breath to speak. However, she was amongst not only Volturi members, but one of their three leaders. Losing control and slaughtering droves of blood-bags wouldn't do. The Volturi would take offense. Not even Jasper would be able to save her hide in that case. No, right now, she had to grin and bear it.

Unwittingly, she was reminded of that fateful day when she'd first managed to control the overwhelming amount of sensory input that had been pummelling her poor senses ever since her transformation. She'd run outside blindly after her little panic attack, crashed through the forest, and then she'd ripped apart four human beings. She'd drained them dry without a second thought. They were dead because of her. Why did her thoughts keep returning to those four campers more than they did to others she'd killed? Maybe because they'd been the first?

Maybe it was because on that day, she'd finally understood that Isabella Marie Swan was dead. She'd finally realised and internalised that the thing that had replaced her was not only a monster, but a murderer, too.

No. No, no, _no!_ There would be none of that nonsense. She was better now – better than ever before. She had to believe this. It had been worth it. All the pain and suffering, all the doubts and the self-reflexion, all her loss had been _worth_ it. Jasper was right. He had to be right about everything, because if he wasn't, then he was wrong about it all, and she didn't think that she could bear to be herself if that should be the case. The transformation did something to people, sure, but that didn't have to mean that it made them evil. Bella wasn't evil. She was _not_ going to think about the people she'd murdered, about her parents, about the friends she'd never appreciated, about the good, natural, and ordinary life that she had thrown away in exchange for an existence in a parasitic stone fortress that had nothing human left in it. She wasn't going to think about the fact that she'd married someone she'd known nothing about, and that together they had made a baby powerful enough to wipe out entire cities. No, she wasn't going to reflect on any of that. The time for questioning herself was over. If she should give into it now, she might never be able to stop again.

"We need to call Aro," Corin said, not showing any reaction to Caius's little outburst, and thankfully unaware of Bella's incoherent internal ramblings. "He asked for updates about-"

"I'll decide who we call and when, Quirina. Stop being so _horribly_ impertinent!" He held out his hand without taking his eyes off Renesmee. "My phone."

She pushed it into his hand and marched outside without another word.

Bella watched her go, shrugged internally, and bent down over her child, placing her hands on the sides of her little face.

" _What are you doing?_ " His tone was so sharp, she nearly flinched.

"Breaking her neck again. It was mending itself," she said, but hesitated. "You don't want her to wake up."

For a moment, he didn't say anything in reply. About ten seconds later, however, he said, "When your companion comes back with Charmion from their scouting trip, the two of you would be able to keep her in check. Perhaps it would be wise to convince her to help us end the werewolf threat? She can do it. She can strike them all down in one fell swoop."

It took a while before Bella connected the dots and figured out that Charmion was Chelsea, and another for her to get past the dramatic wording, but then, she said, "It's way too dangerous. Besides, we don't need her help. We've got Jasper, Alec, Jane, and Chelsea. It will be a curb-stomp battle. Our enemies don't stand a chance against us."

From the living room, she heard people moving, probably turning in their direction: fabric rustled and feet swished over the carpeting. Alec, Jane, and Corin were very obviously listening. Caius just glanced at her, frowning. She decided to be pro-active for once and broke her daughter's neck again, before straightening up. "Better safe than sorry," she told him. "When Jasper comes back, we can all decide what to do with Renesmee."

"That sounds…logical," he said, hesitant, and focussed on his cell. Louder, for everyone's benefit, he added, "It's from Demetri. He tells us they'll be in La Push tomorrow evening. He" – This was accompanied by a humourless and wry little chuckle – "He asks us to listen to what he has to say. Unbelievable."

"Maybe he knows something that we don't," Alec said from the living room. "After all, he's got a police officer in tow, and the authorities _are_ investigating the Cullens."

Charlie. Charlie was still alive and kicking. That was good. The moment he got to La Push, Bella would hurry and change him – no questions, no dialogue, no explanations, no arguing. She'd bite him quickly, and he'd change. Afterward, he'd be grateful. He wouldn't want to die. Of course he wouldn't want to die. Nobody wanted that. Existing as a vampire was far superior, anyway, due to the immortality factor, but anything was always better than ceasing to exist. She couldn't lose him, too. That would simply not happen. This was something Jasper was wrong about; she was not being selfish. She wanted to save her dad, who'd otherwise be executed by the authorities because he knew too much. What daughter would ever let that happen? She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"I won't listen to a traitor," Caius retorted. "I gave him a choice. He chose to betray us. There will be no talking himself out of this one. He will die, and so will all those who stand with him. Is that understood?" Nobody answered. "Good."

Bella didn't care much. She realised that she wasn't the most observant person in the world, but she definitely got that Demetri felt nothing but disdain for her. Why the heck should she care that he would be killed? Aro might, given the fact that Demetri was the most powerful tracker known to vampire-kind, but he'd get over it. Treason trumped talent. Besides, none of that was Bella's problem. She would be all right, enjoying a place amongst the richest, most powerful, most beautiful people on the planet. Jasper, one of the most gifted immortals out there, would be by her side. Losing Renesmee would be a shame, of course, but maybe it wouldn't even come to that. Whatever happened, Bella would survive, and she'd surround herself with people who loved her. Everything was going to turn out just fine; she could feel it. There was no room for self-doubt. All the horrors she'd gone through, all the horrors she'd put others through were worth it. They had to be. The alternative was just too awful to contemplate.

* * *

 **4** **"So the big showdown is tomorrow evening," June told Jerry,** as she read Demetri the Vampire's text message, a small frown creasing her forehead. They were in her motel room, sitting by the table, eating burgers he'd gotten from a local diner. "He tells me that it's common practice to scout out the area twice before shit goes down – a day before and a few hours before. He suggests we should inconspicuously and surreptitiously ninja our way to La Push early tomorrow."

Jerry wiped his lips with a paper napkin and frowned at her from across the table. "He did not write that."

She cracked a toothy smile, put her phone down, and picked up her burger again. "Well, I enhanced the prose a bit, but the intel's solid. Want to check my communicator, officer?"

"Why do you always get this annoyingly cheerful every time we're about to dive head-first into a hot, dirty mess?"

"Because it's how I roll. Don't make me pelt you with pickles, son." She took a hearty bite, half-chewed, half-swallowed, and added, "The inconspicuous part he did write."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he said, but the scold sounded half-baked and tired because he'd told her that a million times already, and she only did it in his exclusive presence because it annoyed him. "Inconspicuous, you say? Then the June Mobile falls flat. Is there a bus or whatever?"

"There is, indeed. My Google-fu does not fail me, grasshopper." She raised her eyebrows and watched him for a while. "It'll be good, honey. You'll see."

"We'll do what we have to," he said, his tone somewhat mellower.

She appreciated it. It wasn't easy, keeping up the Mister Grumpy façade at all times. A man needed a break every now and then. "And once it's all over, happy end and all, we'll feed the press the official and agreed-upon sob story, promise the feds that we'll stay out of their hair, and bounce merrily back to the Big Apple. Sound like a plan?"

"Sure," he said, and sighed. "It'll sound like an even better plan once I go out and get us a bottle of cabernet."

* * *

 **5** **"What's going to happen to Atenulf?" Irina said,** watching Aro with genuine curiosity.

They were in that pretty reading room again, sitting opposite each other in thoughtful silence. Earlier, he'd taken her back to her room and left her by herself for a while, as he needed to tell the good news to his co-leader, Marcus, and several other high officers of his guard. When he retrieved her again, he told her that he tried to call the third leader, Caius, but that neither he nor anyone he'd taken with him to America had picked up their phones. He'd told her not to worry, because this sometimes happened, but she couldn't help but think about Demetri and about how he might be in trouble for allying with Leah Clearwater. Still, she kept this particular thought to herself. She was getting along really well with the emperor, but she didn't know him anywhere near enough to be able to determine how he'd react to her voicing concerns about his general.

"He's still in his cell, but we brought him some animal blood," he said, and smiled a little when he saw what must have been utter disgust on her face. "I know it's repulsive, but it's more nourishing than blood from a bag, and less harmful to humans. Besides, he hasn't fed for so long, I don't think he minded much."

"If Fiora's powers can be kept muted, then maybe we won't have to treat him anymore." She was sitting upright, palms resting on her knees, looking at him expectantly. "Getting bitten by me must be pure torture. It would be better if only one person were required to suffer through it."

For a moment, he just looked right back, both frowning and smiling a little, coming across as rather puzzled. Then, he said, "You know, most others in your place would be asking what their own immediate future was going to look like, whether they'd be allowed to leave or not. You ask after a mind-consuming abomination and the hapless dullard who unwittingly spawned it." Ah, there it was, the resentment he'd displayed earlier. It was nice to understand that there were bullets not even Aro could bite.

"I _am_ thinking of myself," she replied, for once glad that he couldn't hear her thoughts at that precise instant. "It doesn't even matter whether you'll let me leave or not. I don't want to leave. I want to keep helping. This experiment is way bigger than I am. I want to matter. That's a rather selfish way of thinking, wouldn't you say? It's what I want: to stay and help." She briefly looked down at her hands before locking eyes with him again. "I'm sure my sisters will understand."

"At some point, you'll be able to see them again, but for now, we must be cautious," he said, leaned back, and wiped a strand of his wavy, dark hair out of his pasty forehead. "I don't hate her." This he added quietly, pensively, almost as if talking to himself. "Fiora. I've always hated the thing that she is, the things that she's done, but not her as a person. I realise that now. When I looked into her mind earlier, I felt her relief; she doesn't want to be capable of what she's capable of. She never meant to hurt anyone." He chuckled wryly and shook his head. "She never hated me, even though she had every reason to."

"Well, she seemed very doubtful that anyone could ever hate you. I am, too."

He squinted at her and then laughed softly. "Are you serious?"

"Well, have you met you?" For some reason, she needed to break off eye-contact again, lest she start beaming like an idiot. It was so hard not to be infected by the charm and charisma that baked off of him like radiation. "As for Fiora, I think she's the perfect example of how people can be good despite horrible adversity."

"Do you believe the same of the dhampir you were first infected by?"

This was a bit of a tough question. She dwelled on it for a while before raising her face again, shaking her head, and shrugging. "I can't be sure."

His eyes narrowed a little. "Not even a gut feeling?"

Again, she shrugged. "Gut feeling says that the answer is no. Renesmee was spoiled to the core by her family. She got everything she wanted at all times and was constantly surrounded by sycophantic servants."

The little smile returned. "So was Fiora. It's in the nature of those things to be monsters."

"But Fiora wasn't behaving like a monster anymore when my venom quieted her powers."

"Maybe Renesmee won't, either," he said, and briefly raised his hands in a questioning gesture. "My point is, reality is never as simplistic as we'd like it to be. I kept Fiora locked up and chained to a wall for the better part of a millennium. Did I hate her monstrosity? Yes. Did I wonder whether there might be an actual person in there and not just an eldritch abomination? Yes. Oh, yes. Turns out there is, too, but that doesn't make me doubt the righteousness of my decision to keep her under lock and key." He snorted derisively. "I doubted many things, most of all myself, but never my most drastic measures."

"You did the best you could with what you had." Irina watched him calmly. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what that metal is." She knew that he was right in questioning himself and his decisions, but right now, she was just too happy about actually being part of something truly good to do the same. Also, it was better not to pry. Better to let some statements just linger in the air, on their own. If he wanted to talk about it more, he would.

He laughed again. "Nice deflection. And no, I don't always need to touch someone in order to know what they're thinking. It comes with the job."

That made her smile. "I suppose some secrets must be kept in the name of security."

"It's a good question, but I'm afraid that it's a story for another day," he said, watching her with unmasked amusement written all over his face. When he opened his mouth again to say something, the phone in his trouser pocket rang. "Oh. Good news out of America, I hope?" He took the call but didn't take his eyes off Irina. "This is highly unusual. What-" On the other side of the line, someone whispered so lowly, Irina couldn't understand them or even tell whether it was a man or a woman speaking. "You're serious." Every trace of a smile vanished from his face. "No, that will not do. That's a grave breach of protocol. No." A little pause ensued. He nodded curtly. "Immediately. I'll call you about the details." When he disconnected the call, he must have seen the huge question mark hovering over her head, because he told her, "I'm afraid our lazy days are over, dear girl. Fancy a trip to the New World?"

* * *

 **6** **After dusk, Demetri and the others settled down at a convenient motel near Portland, taking two suites,** and convening in one of them to talk through what needed to be talked through. Leah had settled down on one of the beds, Charlie was sitting at the foot of it, Demetri was standing by the window, and the three others were sitting at the worryingly wobbly, round, wooden table.

"Before you say it," Blake started, raising her right hand halfway to her facial scar and then dropping it again, "we're well aware that we're risking everything by agreeing to help you. Still, I don't really think we have a choice. We can't run forever." She scoffed. " _I_ can't just stand by and watch my people die a slow, depressing, and inevitable death. There's three ways this gig can end, the way I see it: we win completely, we lose completely, or we lose but help Leah's kind survive. I'm down for all three. You?" She gave both of her companions – a white man named Ariel and a Japanese-Canadian woman who'd been calling herself Grace ever since she'd found Blake's group – an enquiring look. Neither protested. She turned to Demetri again. "You're putting your ass on the line for the Quileute wolves just like you did for us, back in the day. You and that other one always seemed more or less decent, as far as vampires go. Why are you working for that genocidal asshole again?"

Before he could answer this rather complicated question, Leah said, from her spot on the bed, "Yuppie Vamp here is very decent, as a matter of fact. Forget about why Psycho Albino's allowed on the Venerable Council of Elders or whatever the cool kids call it these days." She straightened up her posture, grimaced, pressed the knuckles of her right hand to her lips, and coughed. Beads of sweat erupted on her forehead and on the bridge of her nose. "If we do this right, we can get rid of that evil fuck forever, or at least stomp his ass into the ground so hard, he'll limp all the way back to Italy. We'll be free to live our lives in peace."

"What you're suggesting is nothing less than a revolution," Ariel said, frowning. His formerly rather thick Hebrew accent had started to fade since the last time Demetri had seen him. He was in his mid-thirties, of average height, lean, and wore his blond hair cropped short. Unlike Blake, he didn't sport a scar on his face, but he was missing two fingers on his strong left hand.

Demetri knew that this was the result of severe hypothermia, as Ariel and others of his family had been forced to flee Caius's wrath all the way from Tel Mond in Israel over a decade ago. Much of it had happened on foot; they'd travelled north through Syria, Turkey, through Russia, over the sea to Alaska, and then into Canada. It was a small wonder that he didn't trust vampires and that he was even less inclined to trust a member of the Volturi, no matter what Blake might say. Under Caius's leadership, the Children of the Moon had been all but wiped out. Blake led a ragtag band of no more than a hundred, if that many. They had all lost people. They were all afraid. Their situation was dire, and saying that was a huge understatement.

"Blake is right," Demetri said, trying hard not to come across as threatening. "Something needs to happen. The supernatural world needs to change if we're all to survive, and if we don't effect that change, no-one will."

"Cute, coming from a damned, undead sparkle-monster," Ariel grumbled, glowering at him with undiluted hostility.

"Actually, that soundbite came from Leah," Demetri replied, exchanging a little smile with her. Then, he turned solemn again. "If this plan works, you'll all be safe. The Quileute wolves will be safe. The vampire world will remain hidden from humanity."

"If the plan works," Ariel said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"It'll work," Charlie said, after harrumphing. Everyone looked at him. He chuckled. "Man, it's odd being the only human being in the room. Few days ago, and my only problem was the mystery surrounding my daugh…" He trailed off, scratched his neck, and exhaled sharply. "My daughter's death."

"I'm sorry about that, Mister Swan," Blake said, looking and sounding like she meant it. "I know what it's like to lose a child, but losing a child to vampirism must be so much more awful. I'm truly sorry that this has happened to you."

From what Demetri knew about her, she was, too. This was, much like Leah, a thoroughly good person, even if she was more level-headed. That was probably a result of her experience, though. Unlike most vampires, humans and werewolves tended to learn from their past.

Charlie waved off. "Call me Charlie. Everyone else does."

"All right, then. Charlie it is."

"The winds of change are blowing," Grace said, the pleasant sound of her soprano voice catching everyone's attention. She was smiling; it took years of care off her thin and delicate-featured face. How old was she again? No older than thirty. Like Ariel, she'd lost almost everyone she'd ever loved. It was a mystery how she'd managed to retain her optimism thus far in face of all this death and misery and hopelessness. "Wouldn't it be beautiful if this dream became reality? If we could actually live normal lives?"

"Even if we do achieve peace with the vampires, our lives will never be normal," Ariel said, glancing at her irritably. "Twelve nights a year, we're as far from normal as it goes."

"It'll still make a hell of a lot of difference," Blake said, and focussed her attention on Leah. "I won't ask you whether your people are up to the challenge; I'll just assume that they are. I just want to know one thing: are you sure you're on board with this plan? Because if you have doubts, then we need to rethink our strategy very quickly. I want to do whatever I can to save my people and yours, but I won't stumble into a slaughter for no good reason."

Leah glanced at Demetri before saying, "It's crazy, but I think it'll work. I'm with Charlie on this one: not only is it the only thing we can do, but it has to work. We'll _make_ it work."

"You lost people, too, didn't you?" Grace said, her voice so full of sympathy that Leah had a visibly hard time keeping her composure. Who could blame her? She'd gone through too much in too little time. This was a woman with a spine of steel, and no mistake.

"Several," she said, trying and failing to smile. "My cousin, uh…well, he died in Mexico. We're bringing him home to his dad."

The temperature had dropped dramatically since sundown, which was enough to conserve Jacob's body a while longer. He was well wrapped-up and they'd parked the car at the farthest end of the car park, but if a dog should happen to sniff out the corpse, or if the police were already looking for the car and a patrol happened to pass by, then there would be severe trouble.

"You might lose more people," Ariel said, not looking at anyone in particular. "We might all lose everything. Guess who never loses shit, though. Fucking vampires. Those assholes destroy everything that's good and beautiful and then get rewarded by living forever. Screw that. Screw them."

Demetri didn't have it in himself to blame the man for his dislike. A part of him hated vampires, too. Every time he thought about his home, his life, his mother – his mother, who'd died a thousand years ago without ever finding out what had happened to her only child. A chill went down his back. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his icy hands and crossed his arms.

"Not everything beautiful got destroyed," Grace said quietly, and touched Ariel's arm. "Also, keep in mind that not all vampires are evil. What about those who get turned against their will and who don't kill? What about Demetri? We're alive because of him."

He glanced at her. "You're too nice by half. Anyone ever tell you that?"

A sweet smile lit up her face. "You. All the time. It's why I love you so much." She snickered. "It's one of the reasons, anyway."

"I agree with Leah," Blake said, facing each of the others in turn. Her expression was level, her tone of voice firm. "And that's final. Tomorrow, we walk into the lion's den. We'll do our best, and that'll have to be enough. It'll either work or it won't."

"It'll _work_ ," Charlie repeated, this time with more vehemence.

The corners of Blake's mouth twitched slightly. "If it doesn't, we won't be there to mourn our losses."

"Comforting," Ariel murmured, slowly shaking his head from side to side. His jaw was set. There was a hard gleam in his steely-blue eyes.

"Cheer up," Grace said, and nudged him in the side with her bony, grey-cotton-sleeve-clad elbow. "Tomorrow, we'll change the entire word for the better. You'll see."

Clearly despite himself, Ariel relaxed a little. When he looked at Grace, his expression was soft. "If only for your sake, Gracie, I really hope you're right," he said, mollified.

Demetri exchanged another look with Leah. She was in visible discomfort, but she was smiling fiercely, grimly, as she gave him a little nod. He nodded back, returned her expression as best he could, and hoped that all this desperate optimism wasn't just them deluding themselves. The plan would work. The Quileute wolves would not be extinguished. Blake's people would not be extinguished. Leah would not die. Things would not go back to the way they'd always been. He'd stood by idly condoning genocide and wanton cruelty for too long. Tomorrow, it would all change, and it would change for the better. The dhampir situation would be solved. Jasper and Bella would be punished. Caius would be stopped. Everything would turn out fine.

Tomorrow, everything would change.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** **There's a _Breaking Dawn_ quote in here (the book's cheesy last sentence), which I don't want people to think is mine. There's a small and loving nod to _Star Wars_ , too. Also, Jasper says some awful anti-human stuff that is paraphrased from a forum post SMeyer herself made. It's called Correspondence #12 and it's pretty bad. Again, I am not taking anything out of context. She really did post those things, and not in a fictional context, but as defense for her sparklepires' murdery behaviour. I mean it. This is real. I think you lovely people deserve to know why I'm characterising Jasper and Bella the way I am. As always, thanks for reading. I appreciate the fact that you're giving my story the time of day.**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-One**

 **1** **"She didn't even complain when I bit her and you chained her up again," Irina told Aro** , as she looked out the private jet's oval-shaped window at the clouds below. They'd set out from Volterra almost immediately. He'd filled her in about what that call had been about, and she'd of course agreed to join him on his impromptu trip to the USA.

"That's because I promised that it would only be for a few days," he replied from opposite her. "Now that her powers have been muted, she's remarkably patient."

"It's probably a side-effect of being chained to a wall for six centuries." It was out before she knew it. Being on a human-friendly restrictive diet came with side-effects, such as impaired impulse control. That got even worse if a vampire went on an animal diet, along with the additional stupidity and clumsiness. She glanced at him and made a pained face. "Sorry."

"It's perfectly all right. It's an upsetting notion," he said, and smiled, before looking out the window again. The windows they were sitting by faced south, and since it was around noon over these parts, the sun was shining into the cabin, making what little was exposed of their skin explode in a million sparkles. He held up his hand and beheld it, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, I leave the fortress so rarely, I sometimes forget about this. Looks rather silly, doesn't it?"

"It's probably a matter of personal opinion. Some find it beautiful," she said, and looked about the cabin. It was sleek, in beige tones, and very modern. On their side, there were three pairs of leather-covered armchairs around three little mahogany tables. On the other side was a huge sofa, lamps, and a bar that nobody used, among other smaller objects of decoration. All in all, this was the perfect cover, really, for a bunch of immortal people who wanted to travel around the globe, hidden in plain sight. "I've got enough foundation for both of us, should you have forgotten to bring any."

That made him laugh. He dropped his hand to the armrest. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. Whenever I do venture outside, I take a page out of Demetri's book and go through a pre-travel checklist. No need to commit such a pointless blunder such as sparkling in public. I'd be mortified for the rest of my life, not to mention forced to execute myself."

The mentioning of Demetri's name wiped the smile from her face, despite his light-hearted little joke. She leaned back, crossed her arms, and looked out the window again. All those years, and flying still felt like a miracle of modern technology to her. "I wish things were less complicated…regarding Demetri, I mean. He's only doing what he thinks is best."

"I know," he said, and without seeing his face, she could still tell that he'd grown solemn. "I've known him for a very long time. He's a good person. He always tries to be fair. Unfortunately, fairness isn't always compatible with loyalty."

She let those words sink in for a while. After a minute or so she said, "I really don't know if that's true. What is loyalty worth if it's given against one's own personal convictions? Besides, in this case, the ultimate authority is you. You have the power to decide what is treason and what isn't."

He took his time replying to this, too. "That's why I'm flying to America," he finally said. "There's a reason I rarely leave my home, dear girl. If I'm gone and something happens to either me or Volterra, then there'll be a power vacuum that would probably result in our kind being discovered. It's happened before. Back then, humans were much less capable of fighting us, and even so, they managed to cause us damage. They're ingenious, resilient, and very intelligent. As the times changed, so have our methods. I've never approved of what the Romanians and the Egyptians did – trying to set themselves up as gods, herding humans like cattle, abusing them in every possible way." When she looked at him again, she was almost taken aback by the expression of unadulterated disgust on his face. "Even if we could endure the ages like that, there is no honour in slavery. That is one of the reasons Demetri believes so firmly in our work: we don't kill unless there's no other way. The vampire world needs us."

Having met many vampires, and having been one of the worst of her kind herself, Irina could only imagine how bloody and brutal power struggles amongst their greatest powers had looked like, back in the halcyon days. The collateral damage alone must have been staggering, nauseating, terrible. That wasn't what he was getting at, though, as far as she understood it. "Times are changing faster than we can comprehend them. If we don't adapt our behaviour, humanity will find out about us, and if they do, the consequences won't be pretty."

He locked eyes with her and smiled a little. It looked sad, somehow. "That's why we need rules. Please believe me when I tell you that I take no joy in what I'm about to do. I could claim that I have no choice, but I do. There are always choices. From where I'm standing, I'm almost sure that the one I've picked is right. But personal doubts or no, I have to stick to a decision once I've made it. That doesn't mean that I'm not troubled by it."

She returned his expression and then looked out the window again. Through the clouds, far down below, she could see the sun glint off the steely Atlantic ocean. It was beautiful. No, Irina had never been a nature person until the day she had died. It had taken losing her connection to life for her to appreciate the beauty of her own planet. "It's the right decision. It's what I would do."

"Then I have nothing to worry about."

Her smile grew. "Indeed, you don't."

* * *

 **2** **Bella was standing in front of the hotel suite's master bathroom mirror, watching her own face in silent fascination.** It was still weird, still off-putting to look in a mirror and see a different person – not only a different person, but one that was so completely alien. The round (red) eyes, the plump lips, the high cheekbones, the narrow nose, the ghostly white, liver-spot-and-freckle-free skin; none of that was Bella Swan. With living human blood in her veins, she was able to operate her body perfectly, but it was an illusion of control. As soon as the effects waned, she'd get slow and dumb again, she'd be plagued by sensory overload, she'd feel caught in an unwieldy stone fortress that was incapable of physically conveying emotions. Without a constant flow of human blood from the vein, she'd start feeling monstrous again, she'd start feeling dead again…she'd start asking questions. Her conscience would return, she'd been told.

Her conscience would return.

How many people had she even killed by now? There'd been the four campers, the five others, the five police officers, the two tourists on her way back from Mexico. Sixteen people. More were dead because of her, but she had killed sixteen people with her own bare hands, had consumed their blood, had torn them apart as if they'd been made of paper.

What had Renée always told her? _Be good for goodness's sake, Bella_.

Be good for goodness's sake.

Holy crow. Was this what happened when she had too much time to think? Wasn't 'too much time to think' a constant problem for people who were basically immortal? How come she never spent any time thinking about her problems when she'd still been human? All she'd ever done was mope and condescend to everyone around her – all except Edward. But with all his own condescension, there'd been no place for her to do the same.

That was what happened to a person who didn't have any hobbies except obsessing about her sparkly boyfriend – her ticket to immortality, beauty, and wealth.

Her ticket to immortality. It turned out that nothing was ever quite the way that one imagined.

In a slow, deliberate motion, she raised her long-fingered, flawless, elegant hand that was so unlike Isabella Marie Swan's to her throat. The slight burn had grown stronger, tearing at the inside of her throat, blistering. The urge to breathe in was relatively big, given the maddening sound of hearts beating all around her, but without Jasper here to cool her down, she didn't dare. What if she did lose it again, like she'd lost it when Charlie and his colleagues had walked into the Cullen house? Was it going to be like this for the rest of her existence? Would she always have to go through this cycle of agony, relief, agony, relief? Had she really accepted the fact that she'd be a murderous death machine for over a year? It was one thing to come to terms with her changed nature, but as a human, she'd still been prey, and she'd still believed that vampires were in the right. The Volturi didn't kill humans. Most of them were several hundred, if not thousands of years old, and were less removed from humanity than she was. They were the highest vampire authority. Were they not following the dictates of their nature? Were they only behaving like this for reasons of pragmatism?

Did they have a conscience?

She stared at her reflexion and told herself that it didn't matter. Conscience was a human's excuse for weakness. Still, as she stood in front of that window, looking at that perfect mannequin's face, her hand pressed against her burning throat, it was hard not to think about the people that she had killed. How many had died in Tijuana? She didn't even know. Dozens. Dozens of people who'd only been at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Well, it had nothing to do with her, of course. Those hadn't been people she'd known. Still, even if she chose to never again ask herself what was right or wrong, even if she chose never to ponder the consequences of her choices again, one question remained: how was she supposed to exist as a vampire working for the Volturi, when the Volturi didn't kill? The pain in her throat got worse when a pair of humans walked by their suite, chattering merrily amongst themselves. The sound of their hearts beating was so deep, so lush, so fleshy, so alive, so-

She pressed her lips together and only just refrained from drawing a breath. This was bad. If she didn't feed again soon, she was sure that she wouldn't be able to curb the desire to run outside and kill. Closing her eyes, she told herself to stop sulking for once. None of this mattered a single bit. The next evening, they'd get rid of all the undesirable elements threatening the small but hopefully perfect piece of their forever. Then, everything would be clearer again. Everything would be better.

* * *

 **3** **It was pretty early in the morning, not even half past seven, when June and Jerry set out and took the bus to La Push.** The weather was nice, the air was cold, and the bus ride was only about twenty-five minutes long. All in all, a good start, as far as doomsdays were concerned. She was sitting by the aisle, a Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee in her well-manicured hands, unwieldy equipment duffel bag at her boots-clad feet, looking out the window at the streets with a little smile curving up the corners of her mouth. She couldn't even tell why precisely, but she always looked forward to it when she was about to do something important – something that mattered. It wasn't as if she were an adrenaline junkie, or anything. Placing herself and Jerry in danger was not something she did lightly. It was, however, satisfying to be part of something bigger than herself, to make a difference. Okay, sometimes, there were certain dangers involved, and they'd never put themselves on the line as much as they were doing right now. The stakes were extremely high, too: many lives would be lost if their plan failed – that was, if they failed the plan. It wasn't only about helping the tribe of werewolves save themselves, either; this was about keeping the supernatural world (there was a supernatural world! Reading all those sci-fi and fantasy novels had awarded her survival nerd points after all!) secret.

Even if the prospect of being in the thick of things weren't appealing, this was still something they needed to do. They'd gotten involved. They'd posted those videos and had drawn public attention to the creepier elements of the whole Forks debacle. They were part of everything now. Chickening out and leaving the wolves in the lurch when they needed June and Jerry's help was not an option. Well, okay, it was an option, but it would be a pretty cowardly one.

"What's your gut feeling?" she said to Jerry, who was huddled by the window, nursing his own steaming cup, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and thick woolly hat pulled down over his ears and forehead.

He took a sip, thought it over for a while, glanced at her, and said, "We're good."

That was certainly a relief. The Lopes had spoken. She relaxed, reached out, and patted his knee. "That's great to hear, hon."

"I know. I'm just that awesome." Facetiousness or no, in reality he was almost as confident in his intuition as she was. So far, it had never failed them. "I hope Mister Uley is a morning person. His afternoon grumpiness was enough for me."

"Me, too," she said, and nudged him with her shoulder. "It's gonna be a long day, and it's gonna be a bitch setting up all our stuff."

"Which is why we brought sandwiches."

She smiled again. "Which is why we brought sandwiches."

Giving her a sly sideways look, he said, "Did you know that there's a Lopez Island around these parts?"

That made her laugh. For a second or two, a few other passengers looked at her, but then saw that nothing was actually happening, and lost interest. "Spelled with a 'z', wise guy."

He shrugged. "It's not my fault that I'm special."

"Of course not. Such is the burden of those who are exceptional," she added, nodding in mockingly fervent agreement. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was trying not to grin. "The feds will be utterly mystified once we tell them that there's nothing left to investigate – well, us and Chief Swan. I suspect his word will carry more weight."

"Can't imagine why."

"I know, right?" she said, and sighed. "Anyway, they'll have to pack their things and return to Quantico, won't they? Poor FBI."

"That's a crying shame."

"It most certainly is." She leaned her head against his bony shoulder.

They spent the rest of the short drive in comfortable silence.

* * *

 **4** **Leah and company reached Port Townsend around noon.** What with everyone being hungry, they decided to have lunch at something called Nifty Fiftys, a diner lovingly decorated in the style of the 1950s: turquoise plastic seats, pink tables, a long counter, a shiny jukebox, and a soda fountain. Leah herself had never been nostalgic for that particular decade, leaning much more toward the Seventies and Eighties for the rock music alone, but pre-Sam Emily had been a sucker for everything Fifties: the music, the dresses, the sweet if faulty illusion of a simpler time. Post-Sam (post-facial-mutilation), she never did anything anymore but cater to her one true love. He was a leader, had to shoulder so much responsibility and shit, that it wasn't asking too much for his fiancée to take care of everything domestic, was it? Of course not. It wasn't as if he had sort of forced her into the relationship by violently assaulting her, or anything. Where did Emily get off wanting to live her own life, wanting to dedicate time and effort to her own interests, her own pursuits outside of her relationship? Her Man™ took precedence, naturally. Romantic relationships were the most important ones, after all, and anyone who didn't think so was in the wrong. People shouldn't have lives that didn't revolve solely around obsessing over their significant other. If they did, then they weren't in True Love™ like Bell-Bell and Wardo had been.

Oh, wait. Yeah. Huh. Oops.

Or maybe Leah was just a bitter harpy because Her Man™ had left her and she couldn't pop out offspring or whatever.

Sullenly telling herself to cut the sarcastic crap, she bit into her huge burger. No, she didn't want Sam back, because the imprint had turned him into a person she didn't recognise, and after all that had been said and done, her erstwhile love for him was wiped out completely. That didn't mean she couldn't be bitter. She'd told herself a thousand times that this feeling was stupid, childish, and a colossal waste of time, but at some point, she was forced to admit to herself that it was also human. Feelings were feelings, and there was no stomping down how she felt without dealing with it first. No, the imprint was nobody's fault. Yes, she resented Sam for his genes-induced psychosis, Emily for her betrayal, everyone else for their lack of sympathy, and herself for her abrasive and belligerent bullshit. It was a wretched situation, no matter how one might look at it. It sucked. There was no changing it.

The thought that she'd be walking right into the quagmire should they manage to make it through the day alive wasn't exactly giving her the warm and fuzzies.

"What are you rolling your eyes at, Ms Clearwater?"

Snapping out of it, Leah shook her head and smiled wryly at Demetri, who was sitting opposite her and between Grace and Charlie, sipping some coffee while trying to pretend it didn't gross him out. "At myself, of course," she said. "I was feeling sorry for myself."

"Nothing wrong with that, at least from time to time," Ariel said. He was sitting to Leah's left, Blake to her right. "If we don't do it, who will?"

"Got a point there," Leah said, and chuckled. She wiped a recalcitrant strand of her dark hair behind her ear and sighed. "Thing is, if I start giving into self-pity now, I might not be able to ever stop again."

"We've all been there," Blake said, and briefly gave Leah's right upper arm a little squeeze. "I'm really surprised that you're not more anxious. Everyone you care about it in mortal danger. I'd be a nervous wreck."

"I doubt that's true," Charlie said, frowning a little. "You people seem to have defied all odds."

"Most of us didn't," Ariel said, and popped a French fry into his mouth.

"Do you have any advantages over the leeches?" Leah said, glancing at each of the wolves in turn. "I mean, you must have. Otherwise, this whole plan would be doomed to pathetic failure."

"They do," Demetri said, and set down his cup with a last little nauseated grimace. Poor guy. He'd have to vomit it up again later, but he was really committed to keeping up the pretence. It was hard not to at least grudgingly respect that kind of dogged determination. "They're immune to supernatural powers, and their night vision is just as good as ours."

Leah's eyebrows shot up. "Even in human form?"

Grace cracked a toothy smile. "Got to have something cool going for us. Otherwise, we'd all be goners by now."

"Oh," Leah said, trying to sound nonchalant and not let on how fucking amazing this was. "So, that's what you meant when you said we needed some serious leverage, Yuppie."

The corners of his mouth twitched a little. "Precisely."

"It's why he can't turn his magical GPS powers on where we're concerned," Grace added, and elbowed Demetri in the side. She bounced back, made a face, and rubbed her elbow. "Ow. Forgot you were made out of granite."

Demetri smiled at her. "Occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

"We've got voluntary transformation and immunity to creepy leech powers, then," Ariel said, picking up his glass filled with cheerfully pink strawberry milkshake. "Looks like we actually do have a fighting chance, then."

Past Leah, Blake made a mockingly astonished face at him. "If even _you're_ willing to be optimistic, then how could we ever fail?"

Ariel looked down at his half-eaten fish and chips portion. "We can't. We won't." And that was the final word on the matter.

* * *

 **5** **Outside, as they returned to the car they'd parked in the shade of a relatively tall brick building,** Demetri led the little group with Leah by his right side. She still couldn't walk much without getting out of breath and breaking a sweat despite the bitter cold, but her condition was improving by the minute. The healing powers of the Quileute werewolves were truly amazing. The Children healed better than regular humans, too, but they were more vulnerable in some ways – stronger in others, though. There was, it seemed, a balance in nature, where dominant species kept a kind of status quo by adapting to outside threats in different, but equally powerful ways.

The odd duck were, of course, vampires, but that was different. They didn't belong in any evolutionary chain. They were not part of nature.

"Did you ever wonder if there are other kinds of vampires around that you sparkly statues don't know about?" Leah suddenly said, as they were almost by the car. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she sniggered and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her trousers. "I mean, for centuries, people in my neck of the woods were completely convinced that they were werewolves and that nobody else could therefore be, as well. Few days ago, you told me otherwise. People at La Push are probably reeling from the news, and Blake's crowd had no idea, either. They've travelled all over and _they_ didn't know. Maybe you guys don't know as much as you believe, either."

"Maybe," he said, and meant it, before he glanced at her. "I never said I knew everything, though."

"No, but you do have an annoying tendency to be right all the damn time."

He pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car, before opening the back door for her. "I also never said I didn't know _almost_ everything."

She sat down on the backseat and smirked. "Idiot."

"People always misunderstand true genius," he said, deliberately nonchalant.

"Ain't that ever so true," Charlie said gruffly, and got on the passenger seat.

"See you people on our next pit-stop," Blake told them, as she took her people to their motorbikes. It was a joke, of course, since they only had about two more hours to go until they got to La Push.

Taking the route over Port Townsend had been a pretty big diversion to the east, sure, but Demetri knew how important it was to be careful. After all, they were going against the people he worked for, and nobody knew their tactics better than he did. When the wolves were gone, he looked down at Leah again. Her forehead was damp with sweat, and she was a little pale around the nose. Her hands were trembling.

"Should I take a look at your wound again?"

She shook her head slowly, carefully, a serene expression on her sharp-angled face. "Nah. I'll do that in the car; it's less conspicuous. Besides, it's almost good now. I can feel it."

It wasn't going to do much good to protest. This was a grown woman who knew what she was doing. "Very well," he said. "Last leg of the journey."

"Last leg." She smiled a little, went serious, frowned, scratched her neck, cleared her throat, and said, "Listen: there's something I wanted to tell you – you know, in case I don't get another opportunity." She squinted up at him. "We haven't known each other for long, but we've gone through some pretty intense shit together. You're a good person, Demetri. You could be just like all the other lee…I mean, vampires I know, but you choose to be good. To me, that's an inherently human quality. You managed to hold onto at least part of who you were before they fucked you up, and knowing that that's possible gives me hope…as does knowing that someone like you and someone like me can be friends." After running a strong, long-fingered hand through her nearly black, sleek hair, she added, "If we don't make it, I want you to know that I'm really glad to have made your acquaintance."

"The pleasure's all mine," he said, and held out his hand.

She took it, looking visibly relieved that he just let the little speech hang in the air without making much of it. She'd said what she needed to say.

He knew that, understood, and was grateful. It had been an eternity since the last time someone had called him human.

* * *

 **6** **With permission from the Volturi, Jasper had taken Bella out into town in the morning, so that they could hunt.** Before they'd left, he'd broken Renesmee's neck, her spine further down her back, and her arms and legs again. She'd also been tied up again, despite Caius's protest, but without the only two people who were immune to her powers around, it would be impossible to control her if she woke up. It was better not to rely too much on Jane or Alec's abilities; other, less powerful dhampirs than Renesmee had shown resistance to them. At first, Caius had not wanted Bella to leave, but Jasper had argued that she was still new-born and that it would be in everybody's best interest if she fuelled up properly before that evening's confrontation. It was even more important that she be able to stay focussed; unfed, she ran the risk of losing control at the worst possible moment, which of course was to be avoided. Chelsea had countered that Aro's orders were clear about the murder of humans by Volturi members, but Caius had only told them to be discreet, and so, they'd left.

It wasn't really hard to get to a few humans at a nearly empty, shadowy parking garage. Vampires didn't leave any fingerprints, and they'd taken care of the security cameras more quickly than the human eye could perceive. It was all much easier than it should be. Four people were dead in a matter of minutes: two men, two women. Bella would never know their names, would never find out what they'd been doing in that parking garage, would never find out if they'd had families and friends and loved ones that would wait in vain for them to come home. Maybe they'd been great people. Maybe they'd been horrid. Maybe they would have impacted human society in unforeseeable ways, good or bad. It didn't matter anymore. They were gone. Nothing could ever bring them back. There was no rewind button for reality.

Standing on the Port Angeles City Pier, looking blindly out at the deeply blue, troubled water, breathing in the heavy, humid sea air without paying it any heed, Bella said, "I feel better now, but that'll start fading in a couple of days again – maybe a little more. Is this how it'll be forever? Will I always want to kill, feel good when I do it, and then, after a while, start asking myself questions?" She kept her voice very low, so that no-one but Jasper, who was standing to her left and facing the pier, could hear her.

He didn't look at her, but she could see from the corner of her eye that he was making a face. "Oh, come on. Are you really gonna start with that crap again? I thought we were beyond that. This is tiresome."

She lowered her face and looked down at her eerily white hands on the railing's dark wood. It felt warm and frail under her stony skin. How easy it would be to break it, to crumble it into dust without any effort at all. How easy it would be to unleash her full strength and slaughter dozens of unsuspecting passers-by before they even realised what had hit them. This was something vampires were good at: breaking stuff. They didn't create, did they? They only took. They wrecked. They lived off others, in every conceivable way. "I thought I was beyond it, too. But my thoughts keep returning to the same subjects. I can't help it."

"Yes, you can. It's pretty easy," he said, sounding so bored, he probably wished he were still able to yawn, just to make a point. "Humans are like fruit flies, compared to us," he added, and reached out to gently trace the curve of her spine with the back of his hand. "Their life spans are so short. They're so breakable, so vulnerable to disease and old age. They die so easily. Why should we even take them seriously? We eat them. They're our prey. We're only following the dictates of our nature, and nobody can blame us for that." He chuckled. "Well, they can blame us, but they can't catch us. Human values, human laws, human justice – they've got nothing to do with us."

"I go from agreeing with you, from being drunk on my own magnificence, to wondering if my first instinct to feel like a monster wasn't right after all," she said, and closed her eyes. "I was standing in front of the mirror earlier, remembering my first kill, remembering what I thought, how I _felt_ about myself. Edward told me that my humanity would return to me in time, and you keep telling me that I don't need it. What's right? Who do I believe? What stance am I supposed to model my life around? You have to tell me what to do." After a moment's hesitation, she added, in a subdued and timid tone of voice, "And what to think."

For an uncomfortably long moment – a few minutes at least – Jasper mulled over this in silence. Then, he turned around to face the water, inched closer to her, and spoke directly in her ear, "All your life, you've been the most passive, useless lump imaginable. You never had any hobbies, any friends, any ambitions apart from becoming immortal and rich and beautiful. You clung to Edward because in your eyes, he was your ticket to that. You never had any opinions of your own, either. Now, you're giving me the same treatment that you gave him. I'm not your keeper, Bella, nor do I want to be that. I don't want to control your movements, your whereabouts, or your thoughts. Make your own decisions. Learn to own yourself. Grow a spine; it's overdue. You can't keep clinging to a guy like a swooning damsel in distress, hoping he'll tell you what to do and to think. You need to start behaving like a grown-up."

It hurt, like a slap in the face. Human Bella would have flinched, blushed, forgotten to breathe. Vampire Bella just stared out at the water, paralysed. Maybe there hadn't been that much of a change, come to think about it. There was a strand of her dark-brown hair dancing in front of her face, carried by the stiff breeze, but she didn't move to wipe it aside. "I know that the transformation does something to us, that it-"

"Turns us into psychopaths? Maybe it does. Maybe it's only like that for some of us, though. Maybe you have to be prone to psychopathy as a human for it to work that way. I have my theories, but I don't know for sure," he cut in, half-laughing, half-thoughtful. "But I want to make one thing clear, honey: I am what I am and I like it. The reasons don't matter to me. There's nothing wrong with me, and you now what? There is no single Freudian excuse that defines me, or that explains what and who I am. Don't psychoanalyse me, at least not this cheaply. It won't work, and I won't have it."

"But there _has_ to be a reason why you fit into this role as the perfect vampire so easily, and why Edward was so unhappy, so tortured, and-"

He laughed. "Edward, _tortured_? Sweetheart, he spent about ten years playing serial killer during Prohibition times, and he loved every minute of it. He stalked people, tortured them, and ate them. The only reason he ever stopped was because he didn't want Carlisle to think badly of him. Where on Earth did you get the idea that he was tortured? Unhappy, sure, because nothing could make that miserable, haughty little snob happy, but tortured? No. Not in the slightest. He relished the feeling of his own superiority."

She glanced at him and frowned. "He only killed evil men."

"Which is ridiculous. He couldn't possibly have had all the facts. Even though he was capable of reading superficial thoughts, he could, to my knowledge, not look into the future, nor could he tell whether a man was really thinking about committing a crime or if he was delusional. Maybe he murdered innocent schizophrenics. Even if he didn't, he told himself that he had the right to determine who deserved to die for what crime they either committed or intended to commit. He was a serial killer. I never did that, nor do I make excuses for my behaviour. I don't blame others for what I am and what I do, either. Which one of us is worse? Are you better, or do you need me to tell you what you believe about yourself?"

Again, she lowered her gaze. Did he have to be this caustic? Edward had done that, too. She probably deserved it, though. "What I want are answers. What am I? I don't know. Why are you the way you are? I believe it's because of the transformation. It makes so much sense."

"Oh, dear," he said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Honey, it's never that simple. There isn't any simple answer from which you could derive a template for future vampire-appropriate behaviour. There isn't. Trust me. Did you ever read any of those awful novels where the villain is a complete psycho because daddy beat mommy and at some point, the kid started thinking mommy was weak and deserved it, and that's why he's turned into an abuser, himself?" He snorted derisively. This time, Bella did almost flinch. At least she didn't nearly pass out anymore every time she forgot to breathe. "You do realise that no-one's psyche is that ridiculously simple, right? That this kind of bullshit reasoning and scapegoating is an insult to everyone, from abuse victims to psychopaths like me? I am not a walking Freudian excuse, Bella. I'm a complex person who won't be reduced to a bad novel's horrendously ridiculous characterisation. If you want to use the horrors of transformation to excuse your own conduct, then be my guest. If you want to claim some kind of moral high ground, it's your problem. Leave me out of it, though. Learn to shoulder some responsibility for your actions and stop looking for cheap rationalisations. Also, be warned: the moment you start wanting to convert me in any way, I'm gone."

"I know," she said. "So you told me. And no, I don't want to convert anyone. All I want is some clarity."

"I can't help you with that. I already told you what I believe. Make of that what you will." He put an arm around her shoulders. "I'll tell you what, though: you will never feel as sharp and as in control of yourself as now, after feeding on living human blood. You know that. There are prices we all must pay for our continued existence, and our parasitic nature demands a high price indeed. Being like this makes you happy, or at least it allows you not to be emotionally and physically miserable at all times. It allows you to switch off your conscience, to drop the bag of bricks that are guilt and sympathy. You know how it works; what you do with that knowledge is your choice. I'll be on the other side of the dark waters, waiting."

After mulling this over for a moment, she said, "I want to feel powerful. Maybe that's happiness. I don't know. I've never been happy before. I understand that now."

"Then stick with me," he said, and placed a kiss on her temple. "I can't tell you what to think, nor can I decide who you want to be, but I can guarantee that with me, you'll get the most out of this post-mortem life."

She breathed in the sea air, the lush aroma of people's blood, the earthy scent of the pier's wood, and said, "I don't ever want to feel like a monster again."

"All right, then. That's settled," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "No more cheap psychoanalysis, dear. Let's do what we do best. Let's kick some werewolf ass tonight. Everything will be better once all that is taken care of."

Bella's thoughts turned to Renesmee, her broken body, and her growing powers. The girl would have to die or be imprisoned, but as long as Bella was filled with living human blood, she did not care. It was better this way – easier. "Yes, it will."

* * *

 **7** **Caius stood by the motionless and securely bound body of Renesmee Cullen and watched her;** he didn't move, breathe, or blink. Her neck was broken and her heart did not beat, and yet, she wasn't dead. They'd observed the same phenomenon when Aro had broken Fiora's neck, six centuries ago, but comparing Fiora to Renesmee was absurd and ridiculous. Renesmee was so much more powerful. She was a child of little more than three months, was technically dead, and yet, she was growing steadily. Her body was repairing itself with surprising speed, and he could sense that at least part of her was aware of her surroundings.

What he'd told Quirina had been a strange lie – strange because he never lied to her – that Aro would want to examine and study a living Renesmee. Nothing could be further from the truth. With Fiora under lock and key in the bowels of the Volterra stronghold, there was no way that he would want another dhampir around to threaten public security. His order was to eliminate all dhampirs the scouts found, obviously dangerous ones first and less harmful ones later. He argued that all half-breeds were monsters who enslaved innocents and erased minds, and that if they were allowed to exist, they'd end up revealing the existence of vampires to the humans. To Caius, Aro's dhampir paranoia was less justified than his own hatred of all kinds of werewolves, but he usually agreed with Aro's decision to have half-breeds hunted down and eliminated. Those things were, as a rule, dangerous, and Caius did not care about them either way.

Renesmee, however, was a different. She was so strong, so mighty, so _unique_ – killing her would be a loss not only for the supernatural world, but also for humanity. The things she could teach them! Why destroy the brightest diamond in the universe? It made no sense. This was a perfect child, and if the Volturi could convince her to work with them, then their rule would be even stronger. No-one would be able to oppose them. They'd be able to rid the entire world of danger and disease and death. The Earth would be at peace, in perfect balance.

He thought about Atalante, his beautiful wife of so many centuries, and her parting words to him. She'd told him that he had won, that he had slain all his enemies, and he had wondered whether that was the reason he'd grown so disillusioned with his existence. Now he realised that all his enemies were not slain. There were so many more who needed to be hunted down and eradicated – so many. The little venture today would only be a start. Just as he had been during his human life, he was a commander of legions. He was a soldier and always would be. Now he understood that the war was not over, that it was far from over, that perhaps it would take centuries until true peace could be achieved.

Maybe the war would never be over.

Aro didn't understand this, but once he found out what an asset, no, what an ally Renesmee could be to them, he undoubtedly would. He would understand. He would _see_.

The little girl on the bed opened her eyes suddenly, without warning, and looked directly at Caius. She was smiling slightly. The sight of it was mesmerising and lovely, and it made him feel elated and privileged. The only emotion comparable to this had been what he'd feel every time he rode into Rome during the Empire's unforgettable glory days, after a long campaign in foreign lands. He'd spot the hilly landscape from afar, watch the Aventine Triad that overlooked the Circus Maximus and the Temple of Vesta gleaming in the gentle autumn sun, and his heart would soar because he'd finally returned home.

He looked down at Renesmee's lovely face and smiled right back at her. Yes, of course he understood. Words were not necessary. He understood. He _saw_.

* * *

 **8** **It was the early afternoon when Leah and the others reached La Push.** With Demetri's help, it was possible to tell where all the enemy vampires were located – at least approximately. Grace had not been far off, calling him a supernatural GPS. He drove the rental right up to Billy Black's house. Poor Billy. He knew that Jacob hadn't made it because Leah had told Sam on the phone, but she hadn't wanted to break the news to him like that. Yeah, it was probably chicken. Okay, it was very chicken. Here she was, after the fact, still wanting to weasel out of facing Billy, of facing everyone, but of course she wouldn't. When the occasion called for it, she always ended up doing what she had to, even if she preferred not to, even if she tried to run away from it at first.

When she got out of the car and saw Billy wheeling through the door of his house, her heart started thundering and her stomach cramped badly. She felt cold, but it was coming from the inside. Man, this sucked. She took a deep breath, told herself to stop making this awful moment about her own discomfort, and trudged up the gravelly path to where Billy was waiting. "I'm sorry," she said, knowing how trite it was and that there still was no better way to convey how she felt than the unabashed truth. The tip of her nose was itching, her throat constricted, and her vision grew blurry. She took a deep breath. Good gravy. This was bad. "I am so, so sorry."

"I know that you did what you could," Billy said, and looked up at her. His eyes were bloodshot and he was pale, but he was calm and composed.

She almost told him that she wasn't just sorry about Jacob, but also about the fact that she had been too much of a coward to call him and tell him first-hand about what had happened to his son. But that would bring the topic around to her again, and not only would that be self-centred as all hell, it would be horribly insensitive, too. "I wish we could've helped him."

"He was beyond help," Billy said. His voice was firm, but he sounded exhausted. "Hello, Charlie."

Leah heard Charlie's steps approaching.

He cleared his throat, started to say, "Hey, Billy. Look, uh, what happened…" and trailed off. Yeah. One couldn't exactly blame him for not being able to finish that particular sentence.

"Thank you. Glad to see you're alive. Does that still hurt?" Billy motioned at the healing cut on Charlie's forehead.

Charlie had taken off the last bandage. He waved off. "I'm fine, thanks."

Billy nodded once at his best friend before locking eyes with Leah again. "Where's my son?"

It took her a respectable amount of effort, but she managed to refrain from breaking eye-contact. "In the trunk. I'm sorry, but there was no other way."

"I know," Billy said, and glanced over his shoulder into the house. "Sam? Could you help with Jacob?" He looked at Leah again, at Charlie, and at the ones behind them: Demetri, Blake, Ariel, and Grace. "Your reporter friends are already here, too. You can come in so we can get started – _all_ of you."

Despite the awkwardness of the situation and her own sympathy, Leah couldn't help but feel a stab of anger at the sharpness in Billy's tone; he obviously directed the last bit at Demetri. Yes, there was the treaty. Yes, vampires were generally the enemy. Still, Demetri had done nothing but be decent and brave, and if the Quileute wolves couldn't look past their prejudice even in face of that, how was the big change in the supernatural world that everyone was wishing upon a star for supposed to ever happen?

Yet again, she told herself to cut it out. She was tired and in pain and annoyed and sick of sitting around in a car, and Billy had just lost his son. He was doing the best he could under the circumstances. They were going to work together. They were going to win. Things were going to work out. They just had to.

That was when Sam stepped into the doorframe. He nodded at Leah without looking her in the eye, gave Charlie a grim little smile, and looked at a point behind Leah's back. "I'm Sam Uley. I can speak for all of us when I say that meeting other werewolves seems like a miracle. I just wish it had happened under better circumstances."

"The feeling is mutual," Blake replied from further back. "We're glad to be here. We hope we can help beat that asshole Caius once and for all."

Scowling, Sam motioned forward with a jerk of his chin. "And you trust this leech?"

"This leech," Blake said patiently, "saved our lives, back in the day. We kind of owe him."

"And yes, he really is going up against his boss because he thinks that genocide is bad," Leah said, in no mood for the debate that was surely going to follow if she let this conversation play out uninterrupted. Besides, she needed to sit down for a spell. Her wound, though healing, was aching dully, and she felt a little queasy. When Sam gave her one of his patented dirty looks, she rolled her eyes, knowing well how obnoxious that was and not caring. She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. "Spare me the lecture, Sam. After all the shit we've been through ever since the Cullens decided to plant their flag in our corner of the sandbox, I'm in no mood for your posturing and flailing. Demetri is trustworthy. I vouch for him, as will Blake; that's her name, by the way. Introductions all around when we're inside, and I'm on the couch, eating a sandwich." Without waiting for a reply, she pushed past Billy and stomped into the house.

"You heard the lady," she heard Charlie saying, before he followed her inside.

Damn right, they'd heard the lady. The lady had had enough, too. They'd all missed Christmas and New Year's, good people had died, and nothing would ever go back to the way it had been. The time hadn't only come for the supernatural world to change. The time had arrived for all this dramatic bullshit to finally come to an end, because enough was enough. Sunset would be in about two hours. Then, it was either make or break, win or lose. Either way, it would all be over. As far as Leah was concerned, that was a good thing.

* * *

 **9** **Why Demetri had agreed to have his ridiculous meeting in the evening was beyond Caius.** He probably wanted to put Caius at ease, since the Quileute wolves did not have night vision like the Children of the Moon had. This was probably a concession, a peace offering, after Demetri had insisted that the meeting happen on Quileute soil. What a hapless fool. For all his talent and intelligence, he had let sentiment get in the way of reason, which had turned him traitor. It was a shame, losing him, and Aro would surely be vexed, but alas! It could not be helped. Loyalty was the most important trait in a soldier, even more so than bravery. Demetri had never lacked the latter. Up until a few days ago, Caius would not have believed that he might ever be devoid of the former.

They did not need cars to make their way from Port Angeles to La Push, but one of Aro's silly protocol rules demanded that they behave as human as possible when out in the human world.

 _When in Rome_ , he'd joked, but Caius had not been able to laugh.

To be fair, Caius couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed – ever.

They drove onto reservation ground in two cars: Caius, Quirina, and the twins in one. Renesmee was in the boot of the car Charmion was driving. She was sleeping again, in a way, but the rope binding her wrists and ankles could no longer hold her. No, someone of her strength and might was way, way too powerful, way too high above such pedestrian means of restraint. Nothing could hold her back. It was important to understand that, and in time, everyone would. They would _see_.

Following the obvious scent of Demetri, the injured human, and Leah Clearwater, Quirina drove up to a specific street, parked, stopped the engine, and stepped out of the vehicle when Caius gave her the silent go-ahead. The other rental car stopped right behind them. Everyone got out. It was a clear, frosty, starry night. What day was this? The third of January. Caius only just refrained from massaging his scarred throat. It would be a full moon tonight. Ridiculous that this should still give him pause – utterly ridiculous.

Looking around the dark, empty, silent street, he noticed that no light was shining out of any of the lovingly tended-to bungalows, and that their rental cars were the only vehicles around. During their earlier scouting mission, Jasper and Charmion had reported seeing several Jeeps and trucks in front of the houses.

"Did they evacuate? Even the hotel's empty. I don't know how they did it, but they did do it." Jasper said, ambling up to Caius, looking around with narrowed eyes. "Smart."

"Not smart enough," Quirina countered, deadpan. "I can still smell them."

"I smell them, too," Bella piped up, somewhat hesitant. "It's strange, though. I don't even know how to describe it. It's somehow too…too…"

"Strong," Jasper said. "They tried to mask their scent by overexposing us to it, here. Not bad." His severely scarred face lit up in a savage little grin. There was something wrong with this fellow – deeply wrong.

"Can you feel them?" Caius asked him, not even trying to mask his own irritation. What games was Demetri playing, and what was even remotely amusing about any of this to Jasper? If only people would behave according to Caius's standards! The world would be a better, simpler, cleaner place.

Jasper shook his head curtly. "No, I'm not picking up any moods whatsoever, which means I can't manipulate anything."

"This is really strange. I-" Charmion interrupted herself when a light went on from farther away. "The beach."

They all set out immediately, without another word.

The light was coming from a circle of huge, dead tree trunks. It was…a floodlight? What?

" _Turn it off!_ " Caius snapped. The light gave the wolves the advantage, and they had to be close. He could smell them.

Quick as lightning, Alec killed the light. He held up a small plastic device. "Timer."

Jane pointed further away. "Is that a boom box?"

Bella frowned. "I don't-"

The box, farther away and half hidden behind another gargantuan dead tree, crackled loudly.

" _Hello, Caius_ ," a sonorous, woman's voice boomed across the empty beach, drowning out the pleasant murmur of the ocean. " _Remember me?_ "

Caius froze. His eyes went wide. He balled his hands into fists. It was all he could do not to bare his fangs. He knew that voice. Oh, he knew it very well. No, all his enemies had not been slain. Here she was, his most resilient, most formidable foe. "Blake."

Everyone looked around wildly, but there was nobody there.

" _That's right_ ," Blake's voice agreed, trembling slightly, sounding both furious and triumphant – perhaps a little frightened, too. Not that it mattered. " _And now, you genocidal fuck, it's finally payback time_."

" _It's a trap!_ " Jasper yelled, grabbed Bella's arm, and tried to run. He didn't get far.

All around them, several rings of fire erupted seemingly from the sand. The flames flared high, over two metres; their heat hit the vampires like a punch in the face. They shied away, huddled closer together in the relative safety of their ring of tree trunks.

Only once in his life had Caius ever been duped like this, and it had nearly been the end of him. Rage shook his body like an infection. Oh, Demetri. That dirty traitor! He would pay for this. He would pay, and so were all these damned werewolves! Caius would kill the lot of them, once and for all.

" _And now_ ," Blake went on, " _we're gonna have a nice and cosy little chat. Try to escape and you die_." She laughed grimly. " _Come on. Give me an excuse. You're finally at my mercy now, and I'm gonna savour this – we all are_."

It didn't look like the vampires had any choice.

Caius's thoughts turned to Renesmee, reached out to her, willed her to see what was happening. _Come to me_ , he thought, eyes closed. _Help me rid the world of this blight, and I shall place the world at your feet_.

 _VERY WELL._

Her reply in his head was loud and screechy and weirdly metallic, making him flinch, making him feel like his skull was about to crack. He pressed his hands to his temples, groaning.

Nobody paid any attention to him. They were too busy staying away from the fire.

Renesmee's voice was a whirlwind of broken glass in Caius's thoughts:

 _I WILL CRUSH ALL THOSE WHO HAVE HURT ME, BUT I WON'T KILL THEM. I WILL MAKE THEM LOVE ME. THE WHOLE WORLD WILL LEARN TO LOVE ME. THEY'LL UNDERSTAND. THEY'LL_ SEE _. THEY WILL ALL_ SEE _._


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N : There's a reference to the 1976 movie _The Omen_ in here.**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two**

 **1** **Bella stood dead centre in the circle of dead trees, watching the flames dance all around them,** feeling their stifling and painful heat, listening to them crackle and shriek. They painted stark shadows on everything around them and reflected off the red eyes of the vampires. It was a strangely beautiful sight, she had to admit that.

She wondered if she'd be able to feel fear, had she not fed only that morning.

Was this the end? Would her glorious immortality end not even four months after it had started? Leah and Demetri couldn't possibly believe that they could ever hope to get away with this. It made no sense! Sure, they got their enemies cornered, but that couldn't last. The fires would burn out, no matter what was feeding them, and there was no escaping the Volturi – there simply wasn't.

"Who's the lady on speaker?" Jasper said sweetly, having regained his composure after his little earlier outburst.

"Werewolf," Corin said curtly. She was by Caius's side, as if trying to shield him, but there was nowhere to go. "Children of the Moon."

The flames were circling them. A wind picked up. It was coming from the ocean and was whipping the fire into a roaring frenzy. The vampires huddled closer together.

Jasper whistled. "Well, shit." He squinted up at the starry sky. "Full moon's up in what, two hours? Looks like we're pretty fucked." It was weird to hear him swear like that.

"Can't we jump?" Bella said.

Shaking his head and keeping his eyes trained on the fire, Jasper said, "Too risky. They set up several rings. The water is too far away, so we can't jump into the ocean. The buildings all around are empty, but the wolf scent is so strong, I believe they were trying to cover up the fact that they've rigged at least a few of them."

Caius shot him an irritated glance. "They wouldn't burn down their own homes!"

"They would to save their own lives," Jasper returned, his voice dripping derision. "They've had about two days to get everything ready. That's enough time to set us a nice little trap. I for one won't blindly jump into the unknown, only to get burned to death. Also, the Quileute aren't the only werewolves waiting in the wings, lest we forget. We have no idea where the others are, but my guess is, they're close."

Bella, remembering that her lush chocolate tresses might catch on fire and light her up like a torch, pulled the stupid blowing hair up into a bun, like Jasper had taught her. "But the wolves aren't in sight, and if they do get here, our powers-"

"Won't do us any good," Jane cut in flatly. She didn't take her eyes off the fire. Its brightness made her irises glitter like huge rubies. "Not against Children. If they attack us whilst we're trapped, our chances of success are not exactly stellar."

"Depends on how many there are and on how willing they are to sacrifice their own," Alec said. He was right by his twin's side, holding her hand.

" _Come out and face us, you filthy, mangy dogs!_ " Caius screamed at the air. His face was weirdly contorted, as if he were suffering a particularly nasty bout of migraine. This was impossible, of course. Vampires were above such things.

" _I'd keep the racist insults and the gorilla chest-thumping to myself, pal_ ," someone's voice – a woman, but not Blake's – resonated across the dark, cold, windy beach. Was that Leah? " _You're in your own private ring of fire because Demetri knew you wouldn't keep your end of the bargain. You promised to talk and to listen, but he knew, just_ knew _that you'd double-cross him out of petty racism. You are_ such _an asshole, man_."

"Fire won't last forever, sweetie," Jasper said, calm and composed, even merry. He truly was not capable of being afraid, was he? Seemed like a good thing, but then again, how could a person who knew no fear recognise real danger and act cautiously? "And once it's burned down and I'm free, I'm coming for you."

"No matter what happens to us, Demetri, you're dead," Jane said, her voice as toneless as her expression was level. "You're a traitor, and you know what happens to traitors."

" _I'm not a traitor_ ," Demetri spoke softly, but because it was amplified by the sound equipment, his voice boomed. " _Our rules have not been broken, at least not by me. I pleaded with Caius when he gave me his ludicrous ultimatum to either kill someone who had committed no crime, or watch an entire tribe of people be eradicated. Not only are we not supposed to flat-out murder anyone, but the genocide you're planning to commit would draw even more attention to this place. The FBI is in Forks, wondering what exactly happened at the Cullen house. Apart from the fact that genocide is wrong, full stop, do you really believe that burning the place to the ground will cut it this time? It won't_." He paused, but was only answered by the crackling of the flames, the howling of the wind, and the deep rumble of the black ocean. " _I won't follow an order blindly, especially if following said order will result in catastrophe. Murdering innocent people would not only be an unforgivable crime, but it would draw way too much attention. Tell me, what exactly have you told Aro is going on here?_ "

Where the heck _were_ they? With all that fire around them, Bella couldn't smell anything else anymore.

" _Have you told him that Creepula over there pledged his undying loyalty and then figuratively stabbed Demetri in the back?_ " Leah threw in. " _Because that's what happened. He promised that he'd do as he was told, and then he and Bell-Bell absconded with the demon spawn. We were about to come back here soon, so there was no immediate reason for the betrayal. Where is Re-name-me, by the way? Did you leave it hogtied somewhere?_ "

"Don't blame me," Jasper said, and chuckled. "You brought all this upon yourself, honey – you and your knight-in-shining-armour boyfriend."

" _Shut the fuck up, asshole; nobody cares what you think_ ," Leah returned flatly.

"Let us out of here, _and we'll talk_ ," Caius spat through clenched teeth. "Maybe I'll have mercy on you."

" _Full moon's gonna be making a special guest appearance_." That, again, was Blake. " _We're not exactly inclined to take our wolfsbane_."

"You wouldn't dare," Corin said, her voice devoid of emotion, her expression unreadable, and her body language terse, but controlled. Her dark clothes and short hair were fluttering wildly about her in the frequent and violent gusts of wind. "You're be putting your own allies, as well as clueless civilians in danger. You can't afford to do that."

" _Desperate times and all that_ ," Blake replied, equally calm. " _Besides, do you really think we haven't taken precautions to protect the innocent? We're not like you. We care_."

" _I have only ever followed the law_ ," Demetri said. " _But even if committing genocide were lawful, I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. It's wrong. There's no arguing that. Here's the thing, though: times are changing, Caius. We need to start working together, because if we don't learn to cooperate amongst ourselves, we're weaker for it_. _It'll end up being the death of all of us. We_ need _each other._ "

"You're the one who threatened to post a video of yourself on social media," Chelsea pointed out, shying away from a gust of flame and a shower of red-hot sparkles. Some of them landed on her blouse, and she slapped them out hastily. Bella watched her silently, wondering for the first time why exactly Chelsea had come back from Volterra after taking Irina there. "You're the one threatening to burn your friends of many centuries to permanent death."

" _Because I want to prevent a massacre, and because I know that Caius can't be trusted to keep his promises. If you need another argument in favour of cooperation, just look around you: we got you cornered because humans, a vampire, and two kinds of werewolves have pooled resources. The technical stuff was arranged by a human, and the idea was mostly Charlie Swan's._ "

This wasn't going anywhere. Bella closed her eyes and gathered herself for a moment. Wherever Leah and her allies were, they had to be close. Also, Charlie was with them. Did Demetri really expect her to believe that Charlie had plotted all this? Human minds were slow and dull compared to any vampire's. There was no way that a slow human, especially Charlie, would be able to outsmart a glorious immortal. It didn't matter. Charlie was there. He was her father. He might have been convinced or even forced to play along, but he wouldn't let his only child die.

" _Dad_?" she cried out, trying to put as much emotion into her voice as possible. It didn't exactly come easily to her – never had. "Dad, please, if you're there, do something! _Don't let them hurt me!_ "

A few seconds went by during which no-one spoke. Then, Charlie's voice resounded across the landscape: " _Bella, I'm so sorry about everything, but no matter what you say, we can't allow the Quileute people to die. They're Jacob's friends and family! These are people you know, which shouldn't even matter, but that seems to be the only thing you care about besides yourself! Innocent people are going to be butchered. How can you even stand the thought? Don't you care? We have to-_ "

There was a rumble. The earth shook and groaned. The wind howled, shrieked. It felt heavy, tasted like salt and metal and blood. Pressure built up all around Bella. Was there a lightning storm coming? The sky was clear, but there was so much static electricity in the air! A little farther away, the flames sparked and shot up into the sky. All of the other vampires except for Jasper flinched and groaned, as if they were in pain. What was happening? What was _happening_?

The boom box screamed a high-pitched, whiny feedback noise. Sparks flew from it. Black smoke spewed. The box went dead.

"What…" Chelsea started, but trailed off when she saw the source of the commotion. Her eyes went wide. She backed off, the back of her head nearly touching the licking orange flames right behind her. "Oh, God."

From further up the beach, two figures approached: a little girl who looked to be around eight and a tall, muscular but lanky teenage boy. She was very white, had long, wavy, dark-brown hair and an eerily symmetrical face. Her skin shone faintly in the starlight. A sweet smile lit up her features. Her eyes were fixed on the vampires standing in the centre of the several circles of flames.

"Aw, crap!" That was Jasper. "Who let _that_ thing out?"

The boy walked to her right, holding Renesmee's little hand. His skin was tan, his short hair dark and sleek. He had a sharply-angled, appealing face. His eyes were glazed over, as if they had rolled back in their sockets and were now only showing their whites. From his nostrils dripped blood; in this eerie, cold light, it looked like it was black.

Bella grabbed Jasper's elbow. "That's Seth! How did he get here?"

"Doesn't matter," Jasper said, and from the corner of her eye, she could see that he was smirking. "Now we have our old friend, leverage, back."

Renesmee led Seth to the outer ring of flames. The strong wind was whipping her beautiful hair (and by God, Bella's child was heartbreakingly beautiful!) around her head. Her smile grew when she saw Bella. She reached out her free hand.

Around Bella, everyone save for Jasper cried out. It was like they were in severe pain. They grabbed their heads, shut their eyes, and doubled over. What was this? _What was this?_

" _What's happening?_ " she yelled, grabbing Jasper's arm with both hands, her eyes darting wildly from person to person. Was this fear she was feeling? Was it confusion? How was she supposed to tell?

" _Can't you hear her?_ " Chelsea shouted, her voice a broken, choked-up sob. She dropped to her knees, into the sand.

Bella saw with growing horror that everyone was tottering and cradling their heads in their hands. Oh, God. Renesmee had no vocal chords, and yet, everyone could hear her words, loud and clear. How was any of this _possible_?

Renesmee's sweet smile broadened. It looked happy, relieved, and longing. She kept holding out her hand, as if Bella could just step through the flames and take the girl into her loving arms.

"You have to go to her!" Alec said through clenched teeth. He squinted at Bella, his trembling hands still pressed against his temples. "She forgives you! She loves you! _You must go to her!_ "

Looking at the otherworldly, lovely, alien face of her monstrous daughter, Bella couldn't help but think about the conversation she'd had with Jasper only this morning. She thought about the people she killed, about her power, her agony, her satisfaction. As the fires roared, the wind howled, the sparks flew, and the waves crashed upon the rugged beach, Bella thought about the questions she couldn't stop asking herself no matter how hard she tried.

* * *

 **2** **It turned out that Jerry Lopes wasn't just a tech wizard, he was a pyromancing one, as well.** He'd had help with the heavy lifting, sure, but the know-how had been all his, and that had led to the trap being successfully sprung the moment the vampires stupidly – and predictably – pranced into it. They were in the security room of the Oceanside Resort: Leah, Demetri, Charlie, Billy, June, Jerry, and Blake. Everyone else was around, but out of sight and range of smell. On two of the monitors, they could see what was happening at the beach.

 _So far, so good_ , Demetri was thinking, as he calmly explained as wordily as he could that Caius was the one committing treason and not him. It was important that it all be said and recorded. When Bella Swan started crying for her father, Demetri wasn't sure Charlie's resolve wouldn't totter, and a quick glance at Leah told him she was harbouring similar doubts.

Charlie, however, decided to surprise everyone with his moral fibre when he balled his hands into fists and told his daughter no. He was saying, "How can you even stand the thought? Don't you care? We have to-"

There was a rumble. The ground shook violently over at the beach – so violently, in fact, that they could feel it all the way over at the resort. A high-pitched shrieking noise made everyone flinch and cover their ears.

"What the ever-loving-" June Cassidy, the online reporter, forgot to finish that sentence. Her eyes went wide; her mouth dropped open. She shook her head slowly from side to side, staring at the monitors, her neon-green hoop earrings clanking softly. "Jer. _Jerry_. Pinch me."

The relatively short and very slender cameraman was clinging to his friend's arm. Colour drained from his face. "What the _fuck_ is that?"

They still had video and audio feed, but their means of talking to the trapped vampires was gone. From further up the beach, two figures approached: a very lively Renesmee Cullen and a teenage boy. Demetri stared at the view screen in abject horror. Oh, no. Oh, _no_. His eyes darted to Leah. The skinny, gangly, angular boy was someone he knew should by rights not be there.

All colour drained from her face. " _Seth_." It was no more than a hushed little whisper.

Demetri saw the impending disaster before it could unfold. Leah turned away from the screens and made to run outside. He dashed to the door, blocking it, and grabbed Leah by her shoulders. As long as she stayed in human form, he was faster. "Leah, think! You _cannot_ go out there!"

She twisted in his grip, her face contorted into a mask of pure, white-hot fury. Red blotches appeared high up on her expressive cheekbones. She started to tremble. "Let me go right fucking now, before I tear you a new one!"

"Listen to me: if you go out here, you die!"

" _That's my brother!_ " she screamed into his face, but stopped struggling. Her heart was hammering wildly, her breath was ragged, and beads of sweat were covering her forehead. Her entire body was shaking badly, now, and heat baked off her like a fever. She was moments away from phasing out of sheer rage.

"If you go out there," he repeated calmly, quietly, "you die, and so will he. Breathe. Think. This is not a viable solution."

"He's right," Billy said, in clipped tones. His usually tan skin had an unhealthy greyish pallor to it. "You can't phase like this, and even if you did, the child would stop you. Don't go." He squeezed his wheelchair past the two vloggers and placed a hand on Leah's back. "Whatever solution there is to this situation, it isn't running out there in a blind fit of fury and fear."

For another few seconds, she just stared at him with her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed. Finally, she stopped shaking, breathed in deeply, and slapped her hands to her face. "You can let go of me now, Yuppie. I'm not gonna fursplode your ass to Kingdom Come," she said, her voice and words slightly muffled.

"I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. Then, he let her go.

Everyone else alternated between watching them and the screens, in silence.

"Yeah. There you go, being right about everything again. It's becoming a theme," Leah grumbled, sullen, and dropped her hands to her sides. Her eyes were bloodshot. She sniffled. "Goddamn it all to hell. How the _fuck_ did he free himself?"

"We thought that if he were kept far away from the half-vampire girl, we could keep him tied up less tightly," Billy said, dropping his hands to his lap but not lowering his gaze. "He kept getting tangled in the restraints. Twice he nearly strangled himself."

"A common tactic of dhampir victims," Demetri said, hating the fact that he was talking about Leah's brother. "They constantly attempt escape because they can't bear to be separated from their mistress or master for long."

"Sounds an awful lot like imprinting to me." A tortured expression on her face, Leah turned around on her own axis and watched her teenaged brother standing meekly beside Renesmee, his eyes completely white, blood running in a thick rivulet out of his nose and down his chin and throat. It was dripping on his white t-shirt, dotting it in black. The sight was strangely compelling.

Next to Seth stood Renesmee, holding his hand, stretching out her free one toward the vampires – Bella, presumably. She was smiling. It looked a little like she was happy to be finally reunited with her family again. That, of course, was something innate to dhampirs: their insatiable hunger for love and attention. Fiora in Volterra wasn't all that different, even if not nearly as strong as Renesmee. It had taken her much longer to develop her powers, and she'd been fully grown before Aro had even found out about her. Then, it had almost been too late.

"Vampire powers don't work on us," Blake said, an edge to her voice. In her strong, calloused hand she was holding the syringe pen with the concentrated wolfsbane solution that would keep her from phasing into a wolf under great agony. "That girl's power won't, either. I'll call Grace and Ariel, tell them to leg it to the beach, and then the three of us can kill 'em all as long as the fires are still burning."

"That wasn't the plan," Charlie said, frowning. He glanced at her, then at Leah and Demetri, and then focussed his attention on the screens again. The spectacle unfolding down at the beach was just too bizarre. "I never signed up for murder, and before anyone says it: no, I don't care that they're already dead. They deserve a chance to give themselves up like everybody else."

To that, Leah snorted derisively.

"We all agreed to this plan," Charlie said, brows furrowing even more. "Now, I can't physically stop anyone from going rogue, but needless to say, I'd be very disappointed if you did. It'd be dumb and reckless, too. You know what will happen if we just flat-out execute them."

"Plan just got blown to pieces by the little monster," Blake said, eyebrows arched. "Charlie, we don't have much time. In one hour at the latest, we need to take our wolfsbane solution, or we'll turn whether we want to or not. I know we've taken precautions, but you seriously do _not_ want that to happen. We're not like the wolves you're familiar with."

"Precautions or no, of _course_ we're not risking civilian lives," Charlie retorted, and crossed his arms. "It's too dangerous."

"The blond vampire dude's gonna call our bluff," Jerry said, jabbing a thumb at the screen. "Soon as he's done writhing in agony, that is. I didn't know vampires could get the vapours, by the way."

"Usually, they don't," Demetri said dryly.

"You're immune to all that supernatural mumbo, aren't ya, Chief Swan?" June said, putting her hands to her hips. When Charlie nodded curtly, she turned to Blake, who was eyeing her with obvious wariness written all over her face. "You, too. So why don't you all go down there, tell the vampires that they can either comply or get roasted or, alternatively, mauled to death, and then get Damienella away from everyone. She's a public menace, that brat."

Everyone's eyes were on Charlie. It didn't matter what species he was; as the only resident police officer, he was automatically in charge. They hadn't voted on it, either. It just sort of happened that way. "We'd only need to restrain her for a little while," he said, looking at each of the others in turn. "I don't like it, but if push comes to shove, that kid's got to go. I've seen what she can do, and it doesn't look as if she's lost any of her powers."

"She'll only grow stronger," Demetri said. This was his area of expertise, after all. "Our original plan didn't involve having a dhampir on the loose."

"Can we get a move on, people?" Leah said brusquely. She looked like she was on the verge of punching someone in the face. "I get not wanting to stupidly rush into the jaws of death, but _come on!_ "

" _Dad?_ " Everyone spun around to stare at the screens, only to see Bella Swan staring in the vague direction of one of the two cameras pointed at the fire-trap. She was standing straight, unperturbed, beside Jasper. Everyone else was lying in the sand, unconscious but uneasy. " _We need you down here. You're right. You're right about everything. I need a way to get to my daughter_." Her voice was loud and clear, but completely devoid of emotion and therefore unreadable as far as her intentions went.

Charlie's eyes grew wide, even though he did an excellent job keeping the rest of his expression and body language under control. Just like Leah, he was a person with a spine of steel. "She wants to help us."

"Probably only a ruse," Leah spat, and waved off. When she was angry, she didn't put nearly as much effort into controlling her temper. "That girl's the stupidest, shallowest, most inert and selfish bitch I ever-"

"Leah," Billy cut in. His voice was relatively quiet, but he was glowering at her.

All the muscles in Charlie's face tightened. He blanched. With narrowed eyes, he returned Leah's belligerent scowl. "You're in pain. I understand. But that's still my daughter, undead or no, and if there's even a tiny shred of common decency left in her, I will not turn my back on her. I don't care what you think, and frankly, I don't care much for your attitude. I won't let my daughter down, regardless of what she might do if our places were switched. Do you understand that?"

For another few seconds, Leah just kept glaring at him, but then, her shoulders slumped, her teeth unclenched, and she exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry."

"If you go, Charlie, then I'm coming with you," Demetri said, and raised his hands in order to stop Leah from protesting. "You're not well enough and, what's more important, you're too close to Seth to be able to think clearly. I'll be surrounded by people who're immune to the dhampir, so I'll be fine." Probably, anyway. "Let me go in your stead."

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then nodded curtly. "But the moment shit goes south, I'm out there killing that fucking brat, and I don't care what _you_ think about that."

"That's settled, then!" June chimed in merrily. It sounded a little desperate, but Demetri for one shared her sentiment. Starting an argument amongst themselves, or lingering on resentment was a luxury they didn't have. "Chief Swan, you grab yourself a bunch of badass werewolves and a fire extinguisher and _you go get 'em_."

The tiniest smile curved up the corners of Charlie's mouth. It looked grim, determined, and utterly human. "Will do, Ms Cassidy. Come on, Blake," he said, grabbed the fire extinguisher hanging from the wall right next to his head, and headed to the door. "Let's clean up this mess once and for all."

* * *

 **3** **It was already getting dark when the jet landed at the William R. Fairchild airport in Port Angeles.** The entire time, Aro had tried to reach Caius or, alternatively, any of his entourage, but to no avail. He'd thought that sending Chelsea over to America a few days ago, so that she could have an eye on the whole operation and then report back, would be enough; it clearly wasn't. She was not to blame, of course, as she hadn't been ordered to ignore any directive issued by Caius, and if Caius had told her to keep radio silence, then that was what she would do.

Therefore, the emperor and his newest acquisition had no idea what to expect from their own people. This was problematic, because there was little that was more dangerous than walking into an unknown situation blindly. Still, they didn't exactly have a choice. There was a lot at stake, here. They didn't have a large margin for error. Usually, Aro had told Irina during their flight, he'd insist they take a car and drive to La Push. The directive was to behave as humanly as possible, as inconspicuously as possible. This evening, though, they were going to run; they were quicker that way, and speed was of the essence.

Irina hated getting anywhere either in the nick of time or by the skin of her teeth, because the danger of getting there just a little too late was way too great. It was strange how a thousand years could go by and unforeseen dangers could still come out of left field and threaten everything one took for granted. One of the many problems vampires as a species faced was their unfortunate tendency to freeze up whenever they were confronted with stress. That penchant for panicked immobility was partly responsible for kicking off the terrible chain of events that had resulted in Renesmee being born. Irina herself could claim that she hadn't had a choice due to Renesmee's compulsion all she liked, but the truth was, she'd frozen up and panicked just like everyone else. Okay, at first, Renesmee really had influenced her, and Irina didn't know whether she would be able to hurt the girl if the occasion called for it. Still, a lot of her quiet, petrified lethargy had been nothing but.

Now, though, everything was changing. Not only were they about to do something radical and revolutionary that would, for the first time in millennia, change the vampire world's status quo; Irina was finally being proactive and trying to find solutions for problems that concerned everyone. If that wasn't a reason to shake off the torpor and do everything in her power to succeed, nothing ever could be.

* * *

 **4** **Bella stood in the centre of the closest ring of fire and stared at her daughter,** who was still smiling sweetly even though there were thick tears running down her snow-white cheeks, who was still holding out her little hand. The wind had picked up even more. Farther down the beach, the ocean was roaring. Sparks kept flying on the trapped vampires, threatening to ignite them and burn them to ashes. Bella had never been overly aware of her surroundings, and even now, when her surroundings could easily kill her for good, her eyes were fixed on the lovely child standing at about fifteen yards away from her.

She wasn't afraid. She didn't think she was even capable of feeling afraid – not like this. Her thoughts returned to her first foray into the wild as a vampire, to those people she'd torn to shreds. How monstrous she'd felt. How monstrous she'd _been_. Trapped in a stony and alien fortress, Bella had realised that she wasn't the person she'd been before her death. Isabella Marie Swan had perished. If she'd ever had a soul, it had passed on the moment her heart had stopped beating. Whatever remained was not human, was not living, was not part of nature anymore. She was a thing. She was a monster. Carlisle had once told her that what a person was didn't make them monstrous – their actions did. What was right? What wasn't? Did it make sense to try to be good, when all that awaited a vampire after death was black nothingness? Did it make sense to try to be good when there weren't any consequences for evilness? Maybe all that the undead (not immortal – she understood this now) had left was doing as they pleased for as long as they could.

 _Be good for goodness's sake, Bella_ , Renée had always told her. Renée. Her mom. Her mom, who thought that Bella was dead and gone. They'd never see each other again. No matter how long Bella's existence might be, her mother was out of it for good – her warm, sweet, kind-hearted, idealistic mother, who had never said a bad word about another person in her life.

Not even in her human life had Bella done something good for goodness's sake. Now, she was a murderer, a monster, an alien thing. Here she was, filled to her eyeballs with the blood of innocent people, knowing that this was terrible, and feeling nothing. This was not what she had wished for when she'd begged Edward to turn her into a beautiful, thin, rich, immortal, glorious goddess. Maybe Jasper was right, and the price they paid was worth it. Her mom would disagree. Her dad _did_ disagree. Everyone who wasn't a vampire disagreed, which should tell her all she needed to know. It didn't, though. The questions wouldn't go away. Maybe they'd never go away.

"Bella? Snap out of it." Jasper's calm, but firm voice dragged her out of her dreary ruminations. "We need to do something, and fast!"

"Do what?" She glanced at him, but quickly faced her child again – the child she'd never wanted, but had insisted be carried out to term because she had loved the idea of a perfect, sparkly trophy baby to go with her perfect, sparkly trophy husband and perfect, sparkly trophy life. Now, dozens of people were dead and millions in property damage had been inflicted. This was her fault, too, at least in a sense.

"She's _your_ daughter," he said, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "She wants you. You have to decide what to do. Do it quickly, though; I don't think our friends here can take the onslaught much longer, and there is the werewolf situation to deal with. I'll do what I can, but it's only a temporary fix." Quickly, he dashed to every single one of the others, touched their foreheads, and sent them to sleep. It must be the sweetest relief imaginable.

He was right, of course. Now was not the time to freeze up and ponder the nature of her existence. Thoughts of good and evil and guilt and repentance, of monstrosity and dictates of nature would have to wait until the current crisis was fixed. Renesmee was Bella's responsibility. She was a problem that Bella needed to fix. Jasper had told her to grow a spine and to start behaving like a grown-up. She would show him that she was ready.

With great effort, Bella tore her eyes away from Renesmee and looked at the direction where the blown-up boom box was still smouldering. She just assumed that there were cameras or something, and that Charlie would be able to see and, hopefully, hear her. "Dad?" she said, her voice loud and clear. For once she was glad that there was no panic in her tone, which could have alarmed Renesmee. "We need you down here. You're right. You're right about everything. I need a way to get to my daughter."

* * *

 **5** **The sky was clear, but the wind was so strong, it was whipping up sand and sparks and flames all over the place**. Even if they did decide to let Caius and the others go, the vampires might just catch fire by unlucky accident. It took Demetri and his companions less than three minutes to get to the beach; Ariel and Grace were already there, keeping a safe distance from Renesmee and Seth. Both Renesmee and Seth turned their heads to look at them – she slightly confused, he dead-eyed and apathetic – and then focussed their attention on Bella again.

"She doesn't even perceive us as a threat," Blake said to Charlie, who was spear-heading the little group.

"Why should she? I broke her neck and it didn't make a lick of difference," Charlie replied, laconic, and started carefully heading forward. "Just don't let her touch you; immunity to vampire powers or no, I wouldn't risk it."

Bella and Jasper were the only ones who were awake inside the circle. They were both watching the new arrivals warily.

"Let us out of here," he said, and briefly motioned at the unconscious vampires with a move of his head. "They won't be a threat to anyone for at least another few minutes."

"You betrayed us once and just threatened to kill Leah," Demetri returned. His eyes lingered on poor Chelsea. Hadn't she returned to Volterra with Irina? Why was she here again? If anyone did not deserve to be caught in this mess, it was her. "There's no chance in hell you're getting out of that ring." That was when he felt it: crippling pain shot through his skull, as if someone had shoved a knife into his ear. He drew in a sharp and useless breath, pressed his hands to his temples, and groaned. Was the ground shaking? Was he _nauseous_?

 _YOU WILL RELEASE MY MOTHER. SHE WILL COME BACK TO ME AND SHE WILL LOVE ME_. The voice was _awful_ , a both low-pitched and screechy, metallic shriek that scratched inside his head like a thousand rats trying to gnaw their way through his brain and skull. _I WILL FORGIVE YOU ALL IF YOU BECOME MY TRUE FRIENDS. YOU MUST_ SEE _. ALL OF YOU WILL LEARN TO_ SEE.

Strong hands gripped him by the shoulders, steadying him. " _Stop it, you little hell-beast! You're killing him!_ "

That was when he realised that he was screaming. "I'll do it! I'll do it! That's what we came here to do!"

"What did she say?" That was Charlie's voice. He might not be able to hear the child in his mind due to his natural shield abilities, but he was no fool.

The pain stopped. Still tottering, Demetri straightened up, blinked, and gave Grace, who was still grabbing his shoulders, an acknowledging nod. Even though she was still visibly worried about him, she let go, and he said, "She wants her mother out of the fire."

Charlie exchanged a little look with Blake and then, with visible effort, forced himself to face his undead daughter again. The shock of seeing her transformed into an inhuman parasite must still be colossal, but probably not as dreadful as knowing that she was a cannibalistic murderer. "If you manage to get here through the flames, we'll put you out." He glared at Jasper. "Not you, though. You stay right where you are."

Jasper smiled sweetly. "For now."

Bella frowned a little. Her eyes darted from Charlie to Demetri and back again. " _Will_ you be able to put me out with that?" She pointed at the fire extinguisher.

"Probably," Demetri said, before Charlie had to tell his only child that there was a good chance she might burn to cinders. "But you won't be able to get past us and live. Even the water is too far away. The flames would consume you before you reached the waves. Don't try to run unless you wish to put an end to your existence." He was still nauseous, as if his stomach hadn't lost the ability to roil a thousand years ago. His own eyes wandered to little Renesmee, who was holding Seth's hand like she would an older brother's. This wasn't a child. This was an abomination. She was much, much worse than Fiora had been, even if she didn't mean to, and he still shuddered to remember all the horror and grief that Fiora had caused purely because she existed.

"I won't run," Bella replied calmly. "You need to promise me that you won't kill him, though." She took Jasper's hand. "I need him."

"That's up to him, now, isn't it?" Blake said, after getting a nod of approval from Charlie. "No-one needs to get hurt."

 _I WANT MY MOMMY! GIVE ME MY MOMMY!_

Renesmee's alien voice roared in Demetri's mind like a hurricane made of acid, and he flinched heavily. His colleagues lying in the sand did the same, even though they were still sleeping.

"Go, Bella," Jasper said, cupped her face, and kissed her, visibly amused by Charlie's own obvious discomfort. "Do your thing. Make me proud. You can do it."

"I will," she said, offered him a hollow little smile, and dashed through the rings of fire. It caught on her, as everyone had known it would; flames licked her face and curled around her limbs and made black smoke rise from her blazing clothes. The stench of it was unbelievable; sweet and sticky and charred and cloying, it burned in everyone's nostrils.

A second later, she was through the flames, collapsing on the sand, writhing and shrieking in mindless agony. Charlie worked with reflexes worthy of a werewolf: he doused her in potassium bicarbonate. For a terrifying moment, Demetri was sure it wouldn't work, that she'd die horribly and that Renesmee would crush them all in a temper tantrum. Then, the flames puffed out, and Bella Swan lay in the sand, whimpering and charred. Her stony skin reformed quickly, as did her hair, but her clothes were gone. It didn't matter. It wasn't as if she could suffer from the cold, and vampires as a rule didn't care much about human notions of modesty.

Charlie dumped the extinguisher, took off his jacket, and covered Bella's body with it. He knelt down and took her into his arms without hesitation. For a moment, he just clung onto her, before he cleared his throat, let go, and got to his feet. His eyes were reddened. The rest of his face was almost as pale as a vampire's. "You're okay, honey," he said, his voice a little raspy. "You're okay."

She was far from okay, and Demetri knew that everyone else was thinking the same thing when he exchanged looks with them. It wasn't his place to comment, though. It wasn't the right moment, either.

Bella hopped to her feet, raised her hands to her face, and stared at them. "They were burning. I was burning. Oh, God. Oh, _God!_ "

"Bella, focus!" That was Jasper. He clearly didn't like being the helpless one for once. Good.

"Yes." She slipped into the huge jacket and zipped it up, which made her look like a child playing dress-up with her dad's clothes. She then started to slowly walk up to Renesmee, who had turned away from the circle and was staring at her, both crying and laughing at the same time. "Renesmee, I am so, so sorry." Bella's voice was monotone as always, but it didn't even matter whether she meant what she was saying, because the girl couldn't resist the offer of affection; her nature did not permit it. Dropping to her bare knees, Bella held out her arms. "Please, let Seth go and come to mommy."

Bursting into voiceless sobs of pure relief, Renesmee let go of Seth's hand and jumped into Bella's waiting arms, hugging her around her neck and pressing her little face against her mother's collarbone. Meanwhile, Seth groaned, closed his eyes, and dropped into the sand as if dead; he wasn't, though.

Demetri could hear him breathing. He looked straight at one of the cameras. "Seth is just sleeping." He dearly hoped this was enough to keep Leah in the security room. She still had her part to play in what was to come, but until the dhampir crisis had been dealt with – if that was at all possible – she should not blindly run into the warzone and expect to survive.

Bella hugged her daughter tightly, picked her up, and rose to her feet. She turned around slowly and locked eyes with her father. "When I decided to become a vampire, I never thought about the fact that I'd put you and mom through horrible pain," she said, rocking her trembling child back and forth. "I never thought about the consequences of my actions, never took anything seriously, never really knew what I was doing. Now I'm stuck like this, and I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore. I don't know what I'm allowed to do and what I'm not, or if anyone has the right to judge me."

"We might not succeed in stopping you," Charlie said, before one of the werewolves could explode at her, "but we sure as heck can judge you, Bells. Look at you. _Look_ at you. This isn't right. You chose to die and become this…this thing? Never mind the grief you caused me and your mom. Never mind the bullshit you put us through even when you were still just a regular teenager. Never mind all your lies. You killed people. You ate them. You _ate human beings_." His face fell. Tears welled in his eyes and tumbled down his scruffy cheeks when he blinked. He sniffled, gave Bella a defeated look, and shook his head slowly. "Oh, baby girl, what have you _done_ to yourself?"

"I'm not sure," she replied quietly, her expression level, her body language betraying no emotion whatsoever. "But I am finally willing to do my part to fix what has been broken. I don't want to be a useless lump." She cast Jasper a look over her shoulder. "I want to have a spine. I've made a decision." Dropping to her knees again, she pushed Renesmee away a little and looked her straight in the eye. "The pain that you were put through was my fault – not mine entirely, but I am not exactly blameless in this. I understand that now, and I'm willing to admit it."

Renesmee reached out to touch her mother's face. She was still weeping, but when Demetri heard her voice in his mind telling Bella that all was forgiven, it didn't hurt. It was an illusion of peace, of course. No dhampir could stop trying to spread its influence over more and more and more people. Renesmee would grow and her powers would become even more terrifying, and the world would suffer the consequences. All their meticulous scheming and plotting would be for naught if the girl wasn't stopped. Unfortunately, they were almost out of options. The werewolves needed to decide whether they would take their antidote or not; if they didn't, everyone's lives were at risk. Once the fires burned down, Jasper and Caius and Alec and Jane would be loose. If Bella decided to join forces with her daughter, there would be no stopping them.

He needed to do something, and quickly. His thoughts wandered to Leah, and to what she had said to him earlier that day:

 _You're a good person, Demetri. You could be just like all the other lee…I mean, vampires I know, but you choose to be good. To me, that's an inherently human quality. You managed to hold onto at least part of who you were before they fucked you up, and knowing that that's possible gives me hope…as does knowing that someone like you and someone like me can be friends._

She'd called him human. For the first time in a long time, he actually remembered what that had been like, and he was grateful to her for that – more than she knew. He knew that if something didn't happen soon, Leah would come storming down here in order to put an end to this mess, and that would end up being the death of her. This was something he could not allow to happen. She was a force for good, complicated as she was – a strong, smart, compassionate, brave woman who deserved a long and happy life. He, on the other hand, already had had two lives: the warm, human one and the cold, undead one. A thousand years were so much more than the majority of people got. Despite the fact that he had never wished for this existence, he was glad that he'd got the chance to see so much, learn so much, meet so many interesting people – people like Leah and Charlie and Blake. People who deserved a life.

"You are what you are, and nobody can fault you for that," Bella said, and made herself smile. It looked dishonest, but the girl clearly didn't notice. "I know what that's like. I believe that our nature is something overpowering, and that it isn't always possible to overcome it. However, I also believe that there comes a time when a person needs to step up and prove that she is capable of doing so, of taking responsibility and protecting what really matters." She leaned in and placed a kiss on Renesmee's round forehead.

Demetri braced himself. He was going to move quickly, without warning, and drag both Bella and the dhampir into the flames with him. He'd hold them down, and in less than a minute, it would all be over. The pain of burning alive would, hopefully, be so great that Renesmee would not be able to compel him to let her go. He'd have to act quickly. He'd-

"I am honestly sorry that I am not able to give you what you need," Bella told the girl, and gently brushed a strand of Renesmee's brown hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry that you are not loved."

At that precise moment, Caius bolted upward, his red eyes wide, his face contorted in shock and pain. " _No!_ "

Without preamble, Bella grabbed Renesmee by her upper arms, pulled her up, whirled around, and tossed the child into the fire.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

 **1** **Leah was standing in that stupid security room at the resort and watching the two screens that showed what was going on at the beach**. Of course, she felt like a total dumbass for it. Actually, she mostly felt like a dumbass for saying nasty things about Bell-Bell in front of her freaking father, which had been a bit of a low; okay, it had been abysmal and insensitive and stupid, stupid, _stupid_. She'd mumbled a dull apology, but Charlie had every right to be mad at her.

 _Foot, meet mouth_. She'd rather sacrifice herself in a grand gesture than admit that she'd been wrong or simply out of line. Sometimes, it was to despair.

She was standing in the room with the two vloggers and Billy, feeling angry and powerless and like a complete moron. Demetri had of course been right about stopping her from charging down to the beach like a drunk and rabid rhino, and without considerable backup. Phasing back in Mexico to save him from Jacob had nearly killed her. If she did it again, the wound would most likely rip open, and who knew if her body would find the strength to mend itself, then. Also, how the _hell_ was she supposed to stay objective when her little brother was getting his brains melted by Renesthulhu? It didn't matter that he resented her even on his best day, and she angrily brushed aside the gnawing fear that his mind might be gone for good. Fuck that albino leech for not tying up the hell-spawn properly! Fuck Creepula for coming up with the brilliant idea of stealing the spawn from the actual expert, Demetri! Fuck Bell-Bell and her delusions of grandeur that lead to her being responsible for all this bullshit in the first place!

Leah nearly added one for herself and her dumb lashing out at Charlie at the worst possible moment. Yeah, she wasn't exactly Little Miss Sunshine all year 'round, and she had also contributed to the shitfest they were currently enjoying. It was important to keep that in mind. It was important to shoulder some damn responsibility. Otherwise, she'd just be a dumb hypocrite like the Cullens had been, and she didn't believe that she could stand the thought.

"I can't help but feel a bit sorry for the girl," June Cassidy said calmly, monitoring the live-feed on her laptop, her forehead creased. Her cheery outfit and bright-red New Wave hairdo matched her attitude, but seemed weirdly at odds with the gravitas of the situation.

"I don't," Leah replied sourly. "She ate my brother's brain and is directly responsible for the deaths of dozens of innocent folks, including friends of mine."

June glanced up, exchanged a look with her skinny tech-wizard pal, and focussed on her computer again. She'd parked it on one of the desks right under the security monitors. At least the technical stuff was going according to plan, even if the rest was forcing them to improvise. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

"You've got a bit of a bleeding heart issue, methinks," Leah said, knowing that she was being unpleasant on purpose. "The little monster needs to snuff it, no matter what Charlie said."

"I think he knows that," Billy said.

After her little outburst, Leah didn't feel like looking him in the eye at the moment. She squinted at the monitors. "What the…" The sentence petered out pathetically as she watched Bella run through the flames, catch fire like she was drenched in gasoline, and then get put out by Charlie. Leah and the others watched Charlie wrap his daughter in his jacket, watched Bella take her own daughter into her arms, listened to her apologise to the girl…

…and stared in muted horror as Bella threw Renesmee into the blazing flames.

A deep, throaty rumble shattered across the beach, resounding so loudly that the cameras' microphones screeched a whiny feedback. The ground shook. The fires – all of them – turned red and roared up into the sky, spewing white and orange sparks and black smoke. In the inner circle, the vampires all woke and huddled together, trying not to burn to death. Charlie, Bella, and the wolves tottered, backed away, but remained on their feet. Seth was still unconscious.

Demetri fell to his knees, pressed his hands against his temples, and screamed.

"Oh, shit," Leah said. It came out uncharacteristically subdued. She didn't have to think twice. Immediately, she spun around and marched to the door.

"Leah, don't!" Billy called after her.

"Think about what Demetri told you," June added, doing an admirable job of keeping it together, even though her voice had grown a little shaky and high-pitched.

Standing in the doorframe, Leah shot them a glance over her shoulder. "I have to go. I can't just stay here. They need me."

Billy started, "If you phase-"

Leah cut in, though, saying, "I won't – not unless absolutely necessary. You guys stay here and monitor the feed." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "Great idea, by the way, and great job." Without giving the others a chance to protest or reply to her awkward compliment, she closed the door behind herself and broke into a run. Her still healing wound burned, her heart started hammering immediately, and acid sloshed in her stomach. She saw stars. It didn't matter. Maybe this evening would be her last, but if she did die, at least she'd die trying to save good people.

* * *

 **2** **She could hear the horrible, deep yet screechy, rumbling noise coming up from the beach before she could see anything but the orange glare the fires cast on the starry sky.** Gnashing her teeth, she sprinted across the street and sidewalk and onto the sand. Her breathing was ragged, her blood battery acid being pumped through her veins. Her still not fully healed wound was thumping dully. She was shaking, barely keeping herself from turning into a wolf. The moment she reached the beach, part of her wished she hadn't. The several circles of flame were roaring, the ground trembled, and the wind was blowing sparks and sand around. Right up front burned the highest fire of all: Renesmee, standing smack in the middle of the dark-orange flames, screaming. That sound, though, wasn't her voice, because she obviously didn't have one anymore; it was in Leah's head. It was in all their heads, save for the three Children, Charlie, Bella, and Jasper. There was a terrible smell in the air: a stench of rot and decay and, weirdly, of cloying sweetness.

Leah gagged, spat bile, wiped her lips, and steeled herself. How the fuck was she supposed to do _anything_? Well, whatever she chose to do, she wouldn't leave her friends to die horribly. Balling her hands into fists, grounding herself in reality by focussing on the sting of her fingernails biting into her palms, she pushed against the wind and marched forward.

" _Leah!_ " That was Charlie. He was grabbing Bella's shoulders and trying to pull her back from the edge of the flames, but Bella was paralysed, expressionless, as if under a spell. Ah, the famed vampire-stress-freeze. How utterly useless. "We need to-"

"Yes," she said, dropping to her knees next to Seth. He was alive, at least. His face and shirt were all bloody, but he was unconscious and breathing steadily. Small blessings. She wanted to pick him up; he was too heavy. Pain stabbed through her wound. She drew in a sharp breath, let go, fell on her butt. For fuck's sake! Why couldn't her body do what she wanted it to?

A relatively short, but muscular person hunkered down next to her; it was Ariel, the Israeli werewolf. "Don't kill yourself," he said, grabbed her by the armpits, and pulled her back a little. Before she could protest, he and the other one – Grace – picked up Seth and hurried to carry him a little farther away.

It was hard to take her eyes off the spectacle, but Leah had another important person she needed to look after. She scrambled over to Demetri, who was writhing in agony, eyes rolled back so that they only showed the whites. He didn't seem to notice that she was there. It was like he was having the mother of all seizures. " _Damn_ it!" She couldn't see through all that fire and sand if the same thing was happening to the other vampires, but frankly, she had zero fucks to give about them.

"Time to back up, everyone!" Blake shouted, dodging a shower of sparks.

"This is so bad," Grace said, her eyes wide, her dark, sleek, relatively short hair blowing wildly in the gusts of wind. "At least the kid is-"

The ground shook again, stronger than ever. Everyone was knocked off their feet. The rumbling, booming, growling shriek in Leah's head was so loud, she crushed her fists to her head and bit her tongue. Sharp pain shot through her mouth. Blood welled. It tasted metallic and sweet and salty and disgusting. She spat, blinked, couldn't see straight.

From the fire walked a small, thin figure, wreathed in red flames, stretching out burning arms. Leah could hear her in her own mind. There were no words, just primal fury and bottomless sorrow. Why wasn't she dead? Was she dying? Didn't look like it. Damn it! Damn it, damn it, _damn it!_

The fires started spreading. Was the demon-spawn doing this? Did it matter? Charlie wasn't letting go of his stupid daughter, Seth was a vegetable, Demetri was getting his brain fried. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening!

Leah's whole body was trembling. Her chest wound burned like hell, her heart thundered, her innards roiled. She was sweating and chilled to the bone at the same time. Her eyes were watering. Her mind felt as if hit by a tidal wave of acid. She spat bile and blood. There was nothing for it. She couldn't rely on anyone else to do her job for her. Bella had done all she was willing to do, it seemed. The Children would only phase in about two hours, and only if they had no other choice. It was up to Leah. There was no pushing the responsibility away. A knot formed in her throat. Her breath hitched as she pushed herself up to her cramping, tottery legs. Her stomach roiled. She spat again. God, this was _disgusting!_ Hard to breathe, too. Didn't matter.

She closed her eyes, concentrated, tried to ignore the commotion and the pain and the fear. Just centring on herself, she felt it: the familiar heat, rising up through her body and spreading. There it was. Despite herself, despite Seth, despite everything, she had to smile. Sucking in a shaky, sharp breath, Leah opened her eyes and just let it happen. She phased into a wolf and jumped.

* * *

 **3** **Bella was petrified. She'd done her part; she'd been brave and pro-active,** and she'd thrown Renesmee into the fire – the fire that would surely consume her. Except it didn't. The girl erupted into flames, and the flames did clearly affect her, but they didn't kill. Fire killed a vampire, but it didn't end the life of a dhampir – the perfect child. Bella's child. The ground shook, the fires burned high, and the air smelled foul and charred and sweet, like burnt sugar. It was _horrible_. Still, Renesmee just refused to die; she stood there like a child-sized torch, mouth open, holding out her arms. Demetri went down in the sand, screaming. From the centre of the fire, there were more screams. Oh, no. What to do? Why couldn't someone just tell her what to _do_? She'd done her part! Now, someone else had to find a solution. The fire was weakening the girl, so maybe someone could just jump in and rip her head off? Not Bella, of course. She was way too flammable. But who-

Leah came jogging down the beach, panting, sweating, bleeding. Bella only noticed this peripherally, as her eyes were fixed on her daughter. She felt Charlie's hands on her shoulder and briefly pondered biting him, now that he was distracted, but all this stress was making her throat flare in pain, again, and she wasn't at all sure she'd be able to stop drinking his blood in time. No, that must not happen. But what to _do?_ This was all so awful and not what she'd expected when she'd come up with her heroic plan! This was supposed to be over, now! They were all supposed to be safe, thanks to her selfless and caring act. Now, they were all going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. They were doomed. It was over.

That was when it happened. To her right, Leah laboriously got to her feet, swaying like she was drunk. Her cotton shirt was stained with blood. She looked like a ghost, but also fierce and somewhat intimidating when a grim smile curved up the corners of her mouth. What was she _doing_? She couldn't possibly think that she, a mere werewolf, could do something against the most powerful creature in the world! If a vampire couldn't end Renesmee's life, then how-

Leah's body shook violently. Without warning, she exploded into her wolf form and pounded on Renesmee, right into the fire.

* * *

 **4** **Inside the security room, the little group of humans watched the scene unfold,** thunderstruck. From the looks of it, the whole beach was on fire – good thing the place had been evacuated, and that from afar, it'd look like bonfires or something similar, at least. The cameras couldn't catch what was going on with the vampires in the circle, anymore, but they were definitely screaming. Demetri was screaming, too, writhing on the sand like someone was stabbing him through the eyes. Everyone else was petrified or simply unsure how to proceed. At least they weren't running for the hills. That would have even worse consequences than standing there, alert, waiting for what might happen.

"Oh, Leah," Billy said lowly, and balled his hands into fists. His face was greyish. Well, small wonder.

June cast Jerry a nervous little look, before returning to monitoring the live-feed. This mattered. Everyone had their task, and by God, she was not going to chicken out. If the people on the beach could stand their ground, then so could she. "We, uh…we're still catching all this," she said, feeling stupid, but unable to suppress the urge to at least say _something_. When she realised what Leah was up to, she felt sick. Her eyes grew wide. "Aw, dang it."

Leah's very human body literally exploded into a massive grey wolf. She bared huge fangs, snarled, and hurled herself into the flames, right on top of Renesmee.

* * *

 **5** **Leah immediately caught on fire. Her body connected with Renesmee,** knocking her into the sand. It felt as if she'd jumped against a wall. The shrieking inside her head grew louder and louder, until it became a howling agony that drowned out every other sensation in Leah's body – physical pain, queasiness, fear. She couldn't see. She heard nothing but the screaming in her mind. Renesmee closed her arms around Leah's neck and squeezed, but the fire was draining the little monster, making her weak. It was make or break, now. Leah herself didn't have long. With a final effort, she raised her head, closed her teeth around the dhampir's neck, and bit, as hard as she could.

It was hideous. Sickeningly sweet blood gushed into her mouth. Skin broke sinews snapped muscles ripped blood vessels popped bones crunched but she kept biting sinking her hangs in her teeth tearing ripping breaking shredding killing. The ground shook hard. The scream in her mind felt like a sword being driven through her brain. Sharp fingernails tore into her sides, gashing her skin open. Then, it was done. The head was off. Leah stumbled away. The numbness went away, and…oh God the _pain_ burning scorching blistering holy fuck this was _oh God_ -

She was on fire. _She was on fire!_

Yowling, she scrambled backwards, hit at her face with her paws, but it wouldn't go away just got worse oh God this was awful horrible agony _oh please oh no she just wanted to make it stop make it oh sweet Jesus it-_

Something covered her skin, put the fire out. She drew in a breath, reverted to her human form, and lost consciousness.

* * *

 **6** **From one second to the next, the pain just went away. It was all gone.** Demetri bolted upright in the sand. His eyes flew open. " _What happened?_ " He saw Charlie standing there, holding the fire extinguisher in his hands, a horrified but determined look on his unnaturally pale face. At his feet lay Leah, naked and bleeding and covered in horrible burns. "Oh, no. Oh, no!" He hurried over to her, dropped to his knees, turned her on her back, and pressed his fingertips against her carotid artery.

She still had a pulse, but it was erratic, and her breathing was shallow and irregular.

"Is she still alive?" Blake knelt down beside him.

"Yes, but barely," he said, feeling as heavy as the whole world. "She shouldn't even be here. Why is she _here_?"

"She was the only one who could kill the… the…the girl," Charlie said, still holding onto that fire extinguisher as if his life depended on it. "We can handle the vampires, but not that kid in the fire. That thing was something else."

"Bella _could_ have." Demetri's voice was cold and disdainful. For the first time in a long time, he didn't even try to mask his contempt. He shot Bella a black look. "If Leah dies, it'll be on you. Not that you'll care."

Bella just returned his look levelly and said nothing in reply.

All around them, the fires started receding, but they did not die out – not yet. In the innermost circle, the remaining vampires stood still as stone, visibly shaken, but very much alive. Undead. Reanimated. Whatever one might call it. It didn't matter.

Caius looked more upset than the others, who just seemed relieved that they hadn't ceased to exist. He stared at Demetri with unmitigated hatred. His almost white hair was wild and dishevelled, his red eyes narrowed, his clothes partially burned and covered in soot and sand. The scarf was gone, and the knotted mess of scars on his pasty throat was clearly visible. He kept scratching at them, as if he could just peel them off his body. Quite frankly, he finally looked like the madman he was. "If those _abominations_ weren't here, I would tear you apart over and over again for this," he said, his voice shaky. "You'll die soon enough, you miserable little traitor. You murdered Renesmee! She was gonna save all of us! Can't you _see_?" He clawed at his own face and groaned. "I'm gonna rip you to shreds _in her name!_ "

"I don't think you will," Grace the werewolf said calmly, letting go of Ariel's hand and walking right up to the outer ring of fire. Her tone of voice was kinder than Caius deserved. The wind had died down, somewhat, and there was no more need for shouting. "In less than two hours, we'll turn, and then we're gonna rip _you_ to pieces. That is, if you don't lay off the threats."

"You _murdered_ the most precious thing in the universe," Caius whispered, clearly unaware of the fact that his companions were staring at him in abject horror. They were backing away from him, too, as if he were contagious.

Knowing what he did about those who'd been bound to Fiora, Demetri understood their reaction all too well. He frowned down at Leah, stood up, and looked in direction of the cameras, hoping they were still intact. "We need some help down here for Leah," he announced, loud and clear. "It's safe for now. They won't try anything with the Children on the loose – not even Jasper."

"I'm many things," Jasper said, sounding much more unfazed than he looked, "but I am definitely not suicidal."

Demetri shot him a disgusted look and then faced Caius through the flickering flames. "I'm really sorry about what happened to you. What the dhampir did to you was not your fault. I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemies. However, trying to lure me into a trap and to paint me as a traitor so you would have an excuse for genocide? That is entirely your fault. I'm not the traitor, Caius; you are. You betrayed _everything_ our coven stands for, and you don't care that this would put all of us in danger – apart from the fact that killing innocent people is just wrong, no matter how you spin it."

"You consort with not one, but two types of werewolves, and you accuse _me_ of treason?" Caius's voice was barely more than a tremulous whisper. His hands were balled into fists. His face was a contorted mask of pure fury. "How dare you?"

"How dare I?" Demetri's eyebrows shot up. "How _dare_ I? All I've ever done was my duty, and that includes protecting innocent lives. I stood by and watched you carry out your vendetta against the Children of the Moon long enough – no more. They're not hurting anyone. Their nature is not their fault, much like we aren't to blame for being what we are. We, however, claim a right to exist as long as we don't murder. Why don't they have the same right?" He slowly shook his head. "I won't let you kill them. You wanted me to make a decision, and I have. I'll do what I should've done centuries ago: the right thing."

There was silence for a moment.

Finally, Jane said, "You can't get away with this. Even if you run away, once Aro hears about what happened, he'll have Caius's version and not yours. He-"

"Still has the ability to sneak up on you lot when you're distracted, apparently."

Everyone spun around to the source of that voice – that sonorous, beautiful, unique, captivating voice.

There he was, wearing a black three-piece suit and a red tie as usual, his dark mop of hair dishevelled and contrasting starkly with his pasty-white skin. The fire was being reflected in his red eyes, and he was smiling broadly, warmly. It was so mesmerising that it was hard to focus one's attention on anything else. "Hello, dear ones," Aro said, and looked from one to the other. He motioned to his left, to the tall and blonde vampire woman by his side – Irina.

The three Children backed away a little, even though they didn't seem like they even realised this.

Charlie stepped in front of his inert daughter, clutching the fire extinguisher like one would a weapon.

Demetri didn't even try to refrain from cracking a smile. "Oh, you're all right. I'm so glad to see you."

"Of course we are all right, and thank you," Aro said, made his way to him, and held out his hand. "I apologise for our tardiness, my lad, but we really could not have made it any earlier; we left Volterra as soon as you called."

"Thank you so much for being here." Demetri took his hand. He felt as if the weight of the world had been removed from his shoulders. "I know how reluctant you are to leave home. This means everything to me" – He quickly looked about himself – "and to all of us."

Now that he had touched Demetri's hand, Aro had all the information he needed; not that it was necessary under the circumstances, but better safe than sorry.

"Whatever he's thinking and remembering, Aro, it's all lies!" Caius sounded slightly panicky, now. His eyes grew wide. He was obviously itching to get out of the fire-ring, but couldn't – not yet. "If you could touch my hand, you'd see that he is the traitor! You'd see-"

"That you're the one who kept the dhampir alive, even though I ordered it executed at once when we spoke on the phone. You're the one who planned to lure Demetri – one of my most trusted agents – into a trap and murder him. I also ordered you to collect a few infected people, whom you were planning to kill, as well." Aro chuckled, shook his head, and beheld his co-leader with incredulity. "And now, here you are, brother, corrupted by a monstrous half-breed and guilty of attempted genocide. To think of the many times I reminded you that a lack of conscience is a weakness, not a strength, and to know that it was all in vain. I must admit, it frustrates and vexes me quite a bit. Tell me: what should I do with you?"

Caius was clearly close to panicking, now. "It's all lies, I'm telling you! I-"

Aro held up a black cell phone. "I was watching it all over the internet." Although he was still smiling, it looked frozen, somehow – angry. Really angry. "Do not lie to me." He said this slowly, emphasising every single word.

Everyone backed off from him just a little.

"Thank heavens the Wi-Fi is great around here, right, guys? Who would've thought?" The voice came from up the beach; it was June Cassidy, carrying a first-aid kit. She was deadly pale, too, and somewhat shaky, but putting up a brave front as she walked into the midst of vampires and werewolves. "Hey, everyone. Don't mind little ole me. I'm just the nurse." She dropped to her knees next to Leah and started taking care of her burns.

If Caius's eyes got any bigger, they'd tumble out of his skull. "You…"

"Yes. Both of us, in fact," Aro said, and touched Irina's shoulder. "Courtesy of young Miss Cassidy, I believe, and her intrepid cameraman."

"You believe correctly," Demetri said, earning himself a nervous little smile from June.

Irina was tense, but not because of that. Her eyes kept wandering to Renesmee's charred body. "Is she…"

Aro gave her a sympathetic look, though Demetri could tell from centuries of experience that the sentiment wasn't actually genuine. "Dead? I'm afraid so, dear girl. Fire and decapitation are the only things that can permanently kill a dhampir – both combined, of course."

"Good to know," Charlie said.

"Yes, it is," Irina said quietly. She pressed her lips together and squinted through the fire at the vampires in the circle. "Are they all infected?"

"Only Caius," Chelsea hurried to assure. "The rest of us are fine."

"I…" Caius's mouth dropped open. He blinked a few times, as if that would have any effect. "I'm not…I…"

"We hoped that we could get here earlier," Aro said, shaking his head. He slowly looked at each person present again. "The reason I brought Irina is that she's the only hope for those whose minds have been corrupted by a dhampir." Everyone stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. He smiled again. "She cured Fiora."

" _What?_ " Demetri took a step back. He felt as heavy as the world, and at the same time, light-headed. Had the temperature dropped? It was _so cold_ , suddenly.

"It's true," Irina said softly. "I managed to silence her powers. Maybe I can silence them forever."

"Atenulf was cured, as well." The expression on Aro's face was wistful. "If only we'd known about Irina six centuries ago. We could've saved so many of us…my sister, for one."

That was…that was…there were no words. _No words_. "You…" Demetri started, but trailed off, completely at a loss. "A cure for…oh, God. What…where…I mean…"

Aro's smile broadened, crinkling the skin around his eyes, lighting up his whole face. It made the world seem warmer again. Everyone but the Children relaxed a little. "I unchained Fiora…well, she's secured now, again, as long as I am abroad. However, once we've established that her powers can be kept muted permanently – and I am confident that they can – I'll allow her to leave her cell. I have no desire to see her or any of her kind suffer needlessly, and she has no desire to inflict suffering upon anyone else, either."

"But you _hate_ her," Caius said, incredulous. "You hate all of them. That's why you wanted our Renesmee dead – our perfect miracle." His shoulders slumped and he leaned his face into his hands. He looked like he was in physical pain. His whole body was twitching. There were cracks on his hands and wrists and throat. It had begun.

Demetri knew that this was only going to get worse, now that the dhampir who had infected him was dead. He was going to slowly disintegrate, under great agony, whilst losing his mind and identity bit by bit. All the while, he'd remain conscious, as the pain got worse and more and more pieces of him started to crumble. This was quite inevitable. Every single vampire who'd got infected by a dhampir underwent the same process exactly once that dhampir was dead. There was no escaping it. The others could only watch in horror – that, or they could mercy-kill the poor wretches before their misery got too great.

Until now. Now, all bets were off. They'd found a cure; Aro had found a cure after six centuries of searching for one. This was a revolution. Demetri had known that the supernatural world needed to change, that it _was_ changing, but he'd had no idea that the transformation of everything he knew would be this radical. It was amazing.

The look Aro gave Caius was almost pitying – almost. "I came to the conclusion that I can't hate someone for what they are, only for what they do. Do you want to know why?" He waited, but no-one said anything in reply. "Because I looked into Fiora's mind, into all of her memories, and I saw that she doesn't hate me. She hated what I did to her, and she was in pain, but she doesn't hate _me_." Chuckling wryly, he added, "She wants me to love her, despite everything that happened. She can't help it. That's not her fault. It's not anyone's fault." Solemnly, he faced the three Children of the Moon, who were standing together in front of the unconscious Seth. "She's right not to hate, and so is Demetri. If we keep warring each other because of what we are, then we are digging our own graves, as it were. My job has always been to protect the vampire world and to protect the world from vampires. Being your enemy makes no more sense as long as you are willing to keep the peace."

"We've kept the peace for many years," Blake said, her strong voice trembling a little. Her jaw was set, her posture straight. "You and your people have hunted us almost to extinction. We won't stand for it any longer. We won't allow any leech to ever hurt one of ours again – or one of the Quileute wolves, either. That's something you need to get through your marble skull."

The smile returned to Aro's face. It was dazzling and lovely, but would have no effect on the Children. "I give you my word that from now on, you and yours have nothing to fear from us." His eyes wandered to Charlie, then June – who was doing her best to just keep on taking care of Leah without coming across as too nervous – then to Demetri. "That includes these humans."

" _You can't be serious!_ " Caius bellowed, making those in the circle with him – all except for Jasper – flinch. " _They know about us! They have to die! All of them have to_ -" A hand touched his neck. Unceremoniously, he went down like a sack of potatoes.

Jasper wiped his hand on his trouser leg and grinned. "Sorry about that, but he was starting to get on my nerves, so I decided it was nap-time for the little warmonger that could."

"Good call," Grace said. "You're still an asshole."

Both her werewolf friends nodded in agreement.

"Hm," Aro made, watching the scene with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "What a fascinating gift you have, Mister Whitlock. I wonder if it'll work on me." He didn't sound like he was actually wondering that, though. Vampire powers had a tendency not to affect him, because his powers were simply too overwhelming. He wasn't the boss of all vampires for nothing. "As for my dear brother's objections: yes, we have a rule of secrecy, and we have it for good reason. However, I've been following the recent developments closely, and I understand now that we need to adapt our behaviour in order to survive. Times are changing, and quickly. Without allies both human and supernatural, we don't stand a chance. Just look at what can be achieved through friendly cooperation." He motioned about with a wave of his arm. "Vampires are no stronger than anyone else – not anymore. Allying with other species has its risks, of course, but if we choose our friends" – He smiled again – "wisely, then that makes us stronger and more resilient, not less. Therefore, none of you have anything to fear from either me or my people. That is a promise." He glanced at Corin, Alec, Jane, Chelsea, and Jasper; they all nodded their acquiescence. "You may not have any reason to trust me, but you do have reason to trust Demetri, and he knows that I never break my word."

"It's true," Demetri said. The immediate danger having passed, he knelt down by June's side to help her bandage Leah's cleaned wounds.

Leah was breathing more deeply, now, which was good, but the chest-wound was bleeding again.

"As a show of good faith, I'd like you to let Irina help the poor Quileute boy," Aro said, pointing at Seth. "She's the only one who can."

The Children huddled closer together, standing protectively in front of the kid.

"Please," Irina said, raising her hands in a defensive gesture. "Just let me try. If I can't help him, he's as good as dead."

"Don't trust them," Ariel said, frowning, shaking his head at Blake. He cradled his mangled hand to his chest.

At first, she returned his look wearing the exact same expression, but then, her features softened. She blew out a heavy breath and nodded curtly at Irina, stepping aside.

"Blake, I don't know about this," Grace said.

"I don't either, but the uber-vamp is right," Blake said, trying and failing to smile with encouragement. "Call it a leap of faith."

"Thank you," Irina said, walking up to Seth, moving deliberately slowly. The three Children remained on edge, but allowed her to kneel down. "Don't be frightened; I have to bite him. It'll-"

" _What?_ "

"It'll hurt, but I'm sure it'll help him. It's the only chance he's got." When no more protest came, although the wolves were definitely reluctant, she bent down and sank her fangs into Seth's throat.

Immediately, he started convulsing and groaning. He turned on his side, curled up, hugged his arms around himself, and vomited into the sand.

" _What have you_ -"

"Easy, Ariel," Blake said, holding him back with one arm. "I don't think she harmed him."

Irina dashed back to Aro's side. "He should regain consciousness soon, I believe, and then we'll see."

That was when Leah woke and sat up so suddenly, she nearly collided with the startled June, who cried out in surprise.

Leah's eyes darted from her to Demetri. "Where's my little brother?"

* * *

 **7** **Leah's consciousness returned with a bang.** Before she knew it, she was sitting upright, asking about Seth. She was…oh, everything was _hurting_. Her skin was refashioning itself exceedingly quickly, and it was on _fire_. Her chest felt as if someone had punched through it. She was horribly cold despite the burns.

"Leah, calm down." That was Demetri, right next to her.

Oh, thank God! He was okay. Did that mean…

…yes. She had bitten off the hell-baby's head. Christ on a cracker.

"Here." He took his jacket and dressed her in it.

It hurt, to say the least. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils, as her teeth were firmly gritted. When he was done zipping it up, she was panting and sweating profusely. Her skin was screaming. How was she still alive? The bandage on her chest was soaked in blood, but the damage was not as bad, since the wound had been almost healed when she phased. She'd set her healing process back a while, but she was tougher than she herself had believed. That was good…probably, depending on whether she would, in the future, decide to take better care of herself or use this as an excuse to throw herself into danger at every opportunity. Right now, though, there were more pressing matters at hand. "Seth?"

A strangled groan answered her.

Her eyes went wide and she meant to stand up, but Demetri and June held her down.

"It's okay, hon," June said, brushing some of Leah's tangled and filthy hair from her face. "He's being healed."

" _What?_ "

"Look around you," Demetri said, smiling slightly. He looked…happy. Seriously? Yup, he was happy – giddy, even. Okay, then. "We _won_."

"We won?" she echoed dully, but then, she did look around. Oh…oh, wow. What…all right.

A little ways down the beach, to her left, lay Re-name-me's charred, headless body. Just remembering how she'd ended up this way made Leah queasy. She had the most disgusting taste in her mouth; her breath must smell abysmally. Yikes. Behind her, as she saw by glancing over her shoulder, were two red-eyed vampires. One was a relatively short, thin white guy in a suit – Aro, presumably – who couldn't stop smiling and who...who was strangely attractive. Huh. Wow. Fancy that. She shook her head. What the hell? The other vampire was Alaska Blonde. Charlie was shielding his daughter. The fire extinguisher in his hands told her that he'd been the one to put her out. That warmed her heart. Charlie was so awesome.

Had their dastardly plan really worked? And what the hell was going on with Seth?

"Seth…"

"Will be fine," Alaska Blonde – no, Irina said.

When Seth whimpered and vomited loudly, Leah's own stomach panged. "Did you _bite_ him?"

"To cure him," Demetri told her. He was holding her by the shoulders and beaming at her. It was a pretty sight, not because all vampires were pretty in an uncanny valley way, but because it was clearly a genuine emotion. It shone out of him like sunshine. Like this, it didn't matter that he wasn't human. He looked alive, and that was beautiful. That was who he was, despite his nature, despite his eerie symmetrical face and the bloodless skin and the cold he emanated.

Leah couldn't help but snicker, despite her pain, her nausea, and everything else. She felt alive, too, which was also beautiful. "You're serious."

"I am. In a few hours, we'll see how Seth's responding. It'll be fine. It'll all be fine."

"Help me up…please." She saw that he meant to protest, but that he then changed his mind like a good boy. Wordlessly, he repositioned himself, put his right arm around her shoulders, took her by the wrist, and very carefully hoisted her up to her feet. It felt as if her skin were about to slough off. She saw stars. Her legs were made of rubber. She leaned heavily against him. The chill that radiated off of him felt like heaven. As if he could read her mind, he turned her around to face Aro.

"The illustrious Ms Clearwater," he said cheerily, as if this were a cocktail party. He had a very nice voice and spoke the same Queen's English that Yuppie Vamp used. That was cute. It was…

…aw, damn, the guy had supernatural charm. She remembered. This was the televangelist. "Yes – and no, you can't touch me and read my thoughts."

The look he gave her was thoroughly entertained. "I would never do that without your consent."

"Sure." She coughed, flinched, gasped. Sweet Jesus, had someone shoved broken glass into her wound? Dear _Lord_. After half a minute, she was able to talk again. "Hell-spawn's dead, your bro's caught in a ring of fire. You sure you're not gonna change your mind and annihilate us all once the commotion dies down?"

He chuckled. "Ah, yes, of course. Vampires are prone to revenge, sadly. I understand your trepidations. There is no reason to worry, though, dear girl; you've got nothing to fear from us. We will help clean up the mess and then we'll leave. You have my word."

"That's enough, of course," Demetri said suspiciously quickly, obviously anticipating protest. "Thank you for listening."

"Of course."

Leah cleared her throat and made herself look away, because the last thing she wanted right now was to like this guy just because he could charm and read people against their will. "What about Creepula? He killed my friends. He set Re-name-me free. He betrayed Demetri, and therefore, you." She coughed again, flinched again. Good thing Yuppie Vamp was steadying her. They really were a not-too-shabby team, weren't they?

"I will deal with every vampire who's committed a transgression, but no-one else will die because of tonight's events. There's been enough death to last us for decades, wouldn't you agree?"

She bit down on her tongue, shook her head, ignored the pain. Heat rose in her, and her body started shaking. No, this wouldn't do. She could _not_ fursplode again so soon. Her vision grew blurry. Names and faces popped up before her mind's eye: Jared. Embry. Jacob. All the little kids who died. There were those who were dead whose faces and names she didn't know: all the humans Creepula and Bell-Bell had drained and carelessly tossed aside like garbage. Why should they live, when good people were rotting in the ground because of them? Fuck that. She shook her head again and bit her lower lip.

"It's for the best, Leah," Demetri said quietly, but she could hear how unhappy it made him. "Trust me."

Of course this would make him unhappy. Jasper knew he couldn't hide from the most powerful tracker in the world, and so he had tried to outmanoeuvre him by getting him killed via Caius and posse. Now, this scheme had fallen flat, he was exposed for the self-serving psychopath he truly was, and what was going to happen to him? Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Zero. In fact, he was probably getting a promotion by being accepted into the vampire government. Well, fuck this.

The worst thing about it was the fact that there was absolutely nothing she could do about it – nothing at all. Her hands were tied.

Demetri had warned her that something like this might happen. Jasper's powers were just too valuable to waste.

"Everyone lives," she said, through clenched teeth.

Aro spread his hands, and echoed, "Everyone lives," solicitously.

"Fine, as long as I don't have to see these dumb assholes ever again, and yes, that includes Bell-Bell." Leah cleared her throat. "No offense, Charlie, but your daughter and I are never gonna see eye to eye."

Charlie stepped in front of Bella. Somehow, that was heart-breaking. "None taken, but you leave her alone."

"Sure. Everyone lives, remember?" That was when her legs finally gave.

Demetri picked her up effortlessly into his arms. "I'm sorry, but you're very hurt." Looking at Aro, he said, "I'm going to take her to the hotel. She needs to rest and recuperate."

"Good. We should all go there and talk this through," Aro said, now all work and no play. He looked from Leah to the Children, to Irina, and then to the vampires in the fire-circle. "Things must change so they can stay the same, as trite as this may sound. I've made up my mind. If you have anything to object, speak now."

No-one did, of course. Even if they didn't agree, no-one would dare cross the emperor.

He smiled; now, _that_ was like pure sunshine. Wow. Seriously, _wow_. It wasn't as if he were super gorgeous, or anything, but there was something about him that just made him so…how to put it? Appealing. Captivating. Attractive.

Good God.

Leah closer her eyes – they were aching, anyway – and leaned her head against Demetri's shoulder. Suddenly, she was just so, _so_ tired. Let the others talk for hours or days or whatever about the particulars of their new deal. Let someone else put out the happy bonfires.

Let Charlie call his police and FBI buddies and give them a detailed account of the Cullen crime ring that extended to Mexico, about his kidnapping, about Bella's death, about the Cullens' deaths, and about the threats made against the entire Quileute tribe. That was his contribution to everyone's well-being in the supernatural world, and probably the most important one, in the long-term. Let others worry about Bell-Bell and Creepula and their psycho bullshit. For the moment, Leah had done her part. She'd slain the dragon, hadn't she? Well, all of them had, together. In any case, she felt like she deserved a good night's sleep.

"Hotel sounds good," she said lowly, yawning, her voice already low, her words slurring. "Hotel sounds mighty fine." Her eyes were closed, but she felt Demetri set into motion. "Seth…who will…"

"Blake and the other wolves will take him to Mister Black. He'll be fine. Don't worry. He'll be just fine."

"Good. That's good." Man, did she feel sluggish. The pain was fading, and her whole body was starting to feel relaxed and pleasantly heavy.

"You saved me again," he told her, as the noises from the fire and the ocean started fading into the background. The air smelled cleaner, too. It was nice and cool; he was nice and cool. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Yuppie. You deserve it," she mumbled, yawned, and drifted off into a deep and black sleep.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: There is a (subtle, I hope) reference to the 1986 film _Stand By Me_ in here. I'd like to thank everyone who stuck with my story until the end, because this is it...sort of. After this, there will be a small epilogue and an afterword. I sincerely hope that you were entertained by this fic. I myself had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you for reading and commenting!**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Four**

 **1** **It was about fifteen minutes after Demetri carried Leah away that Bella and all the others found themselves in the resort's relatively small** , but lovingly furnished dining room – wood panels, slanted roof, a leather couch, small wooden tables, chairs, big windows. For the next hour, they talked over the broader strokes of their new peace treaty. For that whole time, Bella said nothing and just listened. She took in every detail of the room. It was nowhere near as grand as the Cullens' erstwhile living area, but that was gone, now – burned to the ground. The Cullens were, apart from herself and Jasper, all dead. Jasper wasn't even one; he'd even gone back to using his actual last name instead of Rosalie's. Edward, whom she'd once believed to be her soulmate, was dead, and she hadn't even found it in herself to mourn for him. Carlisle and Esme were dead. Alice was dead, also un-mourned and un-missed. Rosalie. Emmett. Renesmee.

Bella was the last Cullen. It was a strange notion, to say the least.

So many people had died, many of them directly because of her, others indirectly. There was really only one name that popped up in her mind incessantly: Jacob. Oh, Jacob. Poor, poor Jacob. He was dead. He had loved her, and now he was dead. He'd been her friend. He'd nursed her back to health, if one could call it that, after her transformation. Now, he was gone forever, and she couldn't feel bad about it because she was chock-full of living human blood.

She was sitting on the couch, flanked by Jasper and Charlie. The twins, Irina, Chelsea, and Corin were occupying chairs. Caius was still unconscious; they'd placed him on the floor, to the side. The humans were there, too, as were Billy Black, Sam Uley, and the Children of the Moon. Bella herself wouldn't have taken a seat, but she'd been told to do so by Aro, and he was the boss. Aro himself was standing by the largest window – the one that looked out at the beach – facing everyone, seeming relaxed and good-natured and pleased with the overall situation. He was either really in touch with the human side of himself, or he was just amazing at faking it. Maybe he'd found a balance between uncontrollable misery and emotional numbness by never drinking too much blood; the way the vampires in Volterra fed, as had been explained to Bella a short while ago, sounded perilous. It must have some advantage, though. Why else would they make such an effort?

Most of the people present were positively enthralled by Aro, and Bella had to admit that he was an exceedingly charming person, but the wide-eyed fascination, borderline infatuation she saw on the faces of everyone except Charlie and the Children of the Moon was off the chart. Even Jasper, as a quick sideways glance confirmed, was watching him with visible fascination stamped all over his face.

That was impressive.

Bella's power, however, made her immune to this, because Aro's ability was mental, not physical.

Still, he was in charge. It would be wise to remember that at all times. "We are in agreement, then," he now said. "This is not just a truce, but the beginning of a new era of cooperation between our species."

"I still don't trust you," Sam objected, rather composed. He was standing a little apart from the others and leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking and sounding weirdly apologetic. "No offense." He made a face, as if he himself couldn't believe what he'd just said.

"Demetri does," Blake, sitting on one of the chairs, said, looking at Sam with a calm expression on her severely scarred face. It gave Bella Emily Young flashbacks. Her countenance was just as ruined. "That's enough for me."

"This is…this is…I need to clear my head. I don't think I can trust a _leech_ ," Sam said, shaking his head. He rubbed at his temples as if he had a headache. "How can you-"

"I don't like to admit this, but we'd all be dead if it weren't for Demetri," the blond werewolf with the accent cut in. What was his name again? Didn't really matter.

"And now, during this whole catastrophe, did he do _anything_ untrustworthy?" the Asian wolf girl said.

Bella couldn't remember her name, either.

"No," Sam admitted with obvious reluctance.

"That's the whole point of this meeting, isn't it?" Charlie said, from Bella's right. "Work out an arrangement everyone can live with. We're not all gonna be happy about it, but we can trust that this is the best deal anyone's gonna get out of this mess."

"I agree with Charlie," Billy said gravely, before Sam could protest again. "We got to learn how to leave each other alone." He looked up at Aro, who was watching him with a solicitous expression on his ageless face. "You people need to go back where you came from and never come here again – ever."

"More importantly," Sam said, frowning, "you need to clean house and stop leeches from murdering decent folks left and right." He motioned at Jasper with a nod of his head.

"Oh, please," Jasper said, snorted, and rolled his eyes. "Stop being so sanctimonious. It's boring."

"On the contrary," Aro said, graceful as ever. "Mister Uley is completely right. We need to rethink our laws and how we carry them out." He locked eyes with Sam. "No-one in my coven kills humans for food. We-"

"Lovely," Blond Wolf cut in, and scoffed. "So you just kill them for sport."

"No." That was Chelsea. Her voice was strained, but she was clearly trying to be civil. "We have a law against humans being told about us, and a lot of the time, they can have their memories erased and don't need to be eliminated."

"A lot of the time," Asian Wolf said. She took Blond Wolf's mutilated left hand into her right one.

"It only works with people who have been minimally exposed to the supernatural," Jane said flatly. "We can't manipulate perceptions or emotions, and we can't replace memories."

"Can we focus on the present?" Corin said, and pointed at Irina. "She still has to deliver on the healing front. Caius is sick – very sick." She seemed to be the only one who was at all concerned about his well-being.

"One thing after the other, dear," Aro said, indulgent. He let his gaze wander across the room, focussing on every person present in turn. Outside, the wind howled. The storm had really picked up. Thick, dark-grey clouds were now starting to cover the sky. It smelled like it would rain soon. "Again, you are correct, Mister Uley. We are responsible for many people's deaths. This is why we need to reshape our judicial system, why we need to exert more control over all the vampires spread across the world. The murder of any sapient being will be outlawed. Turning humans without express permission will be outlawed. Making dhampirs is already forbidden, as are immortal children – vampire children, that is." He looked down at Billy. "This will be our contribution to peace: harsher laws and the cessation of all persecution of any kind of werewolf."

"There is no way that we can make you enforce these laws," Sam said, shrugged, and shook his head again. "How are we supposed to know whether you're keeping up your end of the bargain? How could we ever make sure?"

"Quite frankly, you can't," Aro said, sounding almost apologetic. "But I always keep my promises, and if that doesn't put your mind at ease, consider this: we are willing to let these humans here live."

"Thanks, buddy," June Cassidy's cameraman mumbled, and cleared his throat, pressing his fist to his lips.

Cassidy herself just comradely patted his bony shoulder.

"Also, we're well aware that we need your cooperation." Aro cracked a broad smile that lit up his whole face, making him look strangely appealing despite the fact that he wasn't particularly beautiful. That was weird. Most people in the room relaxed; even the terse set of Sam's shoulders melted away, amazingly. "You've got us on video." He waited, but no-one said anything in reply. "The world has changed. We can either change along with it, or we can die. You can call it the effect of globalisation, if you're so inclined. Going on like we have been for the past few millennia will not do. We need each other's cooperation."

"I'm curious," Jasper said, breaking the small silence that had suddenly arisen. Outside, the wind wailed and the ocean roared. "I know the humans present are part of our little deal, but what about those out there, in the wild? What if there's another pair of woefully self-absorbed and star-crossed lovers frolicking about, similar to our Miss Swan and the dear departed Edward Cullen?"

"Ah," Aro said, and gave him a slightly pinched look. "Yes. That is a problem. We'll have to work harder to make sure innocent people don't get involved, and we need to find better ways to wipe knowledge from their minds."

"I can help with that," Jasper said, straightening his posture. Bella wasn't looking at him, but she could hear the sureness in his voice – small wonder. He really was that good. He had every reason to be confident in his own abilities. "I did a little trick a short while ago and manipulated Bella's mother's perceptions and emotions, blurring her memories in the process. Whoever you have erasing unwanted memories from hapless human minds, I can make the process smoother."

"So I've heard. It's most impressive," Aro said, "and you will have ample opportunity to demonstrate your many talents. However, you will not be exempt from our laws."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, and patted Bella's left thigh, while Charlie just glared at him from her other side. "Miss Swan and I will play by the rules like good children, won't we, dearest Miss Swan?"

Bella nodded jerkily. "Yes."

Jasper smirked. "Won't be a problem at all."

Sam nodded, looking as if he'd just made the most profound of realisations. "I hate you."

"Get in line," Jasper replied nonchalantly, and shrugged.

"We can stay here all night, sniping at each other," Charlie said, tired, scratching around the healing gash on his forehead, "or we can make what Blake called a leap of faith. I think Aro over there is right: we need to cooperate with each other for the good of everyone." He leaned back, drummed on his legs with his fingers, shrugged, and harrumphed. "Call me naïve, but I believe this is the best compromise we can reach, and I'm willing to give it a shot."

"The alternative doesn't look all that pleasant," June said, and snickered nervously when all eyes were on her. "Charlie's testimony, combined with Sam's, combined with our research and the videos we're still gonna post, should get the feds off everyone's backs. We help contain this thing, now and in the future. You people do your part. It should work."

"It will work, my dear," Aro told her, his smile broadening when she got red in the face. "We will _make_ it work."

"Then, by all means," Chelsea said, relaxing a little, "let's write it all down and sign our names to it. Anyone got a legal pad on them?"

* * *

 **2** **It took them nearly all night to hammer out the details, but finally,** the contract was formulated, copied, and signed by everyone present. There weren't any legal professionals to make it binding, but it was binding nonetheless, and they all knew it. The more time went by, the more weary and irritable the humans and werewolves got. Finally, though, the paperwork was done, and the non-vampires all went to pick a room and get some much-deserved sleep. The vampires stayed in the dining room. Caius was moved to the couch before Irina bit him in order to hopefully cure him. Bella, after getting permission, went out into the corridor. She was followed by Jasper.

"Aren't you glad you don't have to turn your father?" he said, stepping up behind her and putting his arms around her.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed in the sweet, cinnamon scent of his skin. "I'm still thinking about it. In a few decades, he'll die, and I'll never see him again."

"That's the price we pay, darlin'."

"It doesn't have to be."

"It's his choice," he said quietly, strangely serious, and leaned his cheek against her hair. "You do _not_ want to take that away from him; believe me."

"Since when do _you_ respect other people's choices?" Her voice was flat and didn't convey her astonishment because she wasn't making an effort to emote through speech. That could get so tiring, at times.

"I don't. I don't care either way. You do, though. You care about him, in your own self-centred, charming, idiosyncratic little way. Do you really want to put him through what _you_ went through? Do you want him to hate you for eternity? No, scratch that. He's too much of a goodie-two-shoes to hate anyone. But do you want him to be forcibly rid of everything that makes him human? He might not end up hating you, but he'd definitely end up hating himself."

"I don't want any of that." She twisted in his arms, turned around, and looked up at his beautiful, unique face. "But I'll miss him…and my mom."

"Only if you choose to." He looked down at her thoughtfully. "I never did, but like I said, I won't tell you what to do. You need to make your own choices, Bella." The corners of his mouth twitched a little. "Like you did when you threw your offspring into the fire. That was impressive."

"Demetri thinks I should've jumped after her and ripped her head off when the fire didn't do the trick." She pressed her rubbery lips together for a moment. "I can tell that he thinks I only did what I did for selfish reasons."

He snorted with pure, unadulterated derision. "Who cares what that dullard thinks? We're on the same side, now, and we'll work together, but we're never gonna be friends. You shouldn't let him tell you what to do, either, or what to think. This is your life. These are your decisions and motivations, not his."

"I agree." She cupped his face and made herself smile. "It really is working out the way we planned, isn't it?"

"Oh, isn't it just?" he said, smirked, and lean in to kiss her.

That was when Bella heard a beating heart close by, as well as the rush of blood being pumped through living veins. Someone's steps approached, and the person in question harrumphed. It was Charlie. "I want to speak to my daughter in private, kid, so scram."

Jasper let go of her, stepped away, tipped an imaginary hat, said, "Of course," and ambled back into the dining room.

Turning to face her father, Bella saw that he'd stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was dishevelled, unshaven, and looked like he was about to fall asleep on his feet. "I need to talk to you, Bells."

"Okay," she replied dully. Her throat was burning faintly, and the sound of his beating heart wasn't exactly making it easier to ignore. She crossed her arms and reminded herself only to breathe when necessary.

Charlie cleared his throat, glanced down at his shoes, and then raised his head again with visible effort. "You with _that_ boy, now?" She only nodded curtly. "I see. Well, I don't like it. Don't like _him_. The other one wasn't any better, though. Whatever." Again, she said nothing, and he snorted. "You're the one who has to like him, not me." He scratched his neck, half-raised his right hand to the gash on his forehead, but decided otherwise. "Anyway, I wanted to say goodbye to you."

It felt strange, hearing him say that – like a bucket of icy water to the face. Old Bella, human Bella, would have thrown a tantrum of epic proportions. She would have whined. She would have stomped her foot. Vampire Bella just stood there, petrified, having to make a conscious effort to say anything in reply, because she was at a loss. Finally, after fishing for an appropriate response in her mind, she ended up saying, "I never wanted you to get hurt."

"Didn't think it through, though, did you?" The muscles in his face tightened. "The lies, the selfishness, your callous disregard for life…you didn't think any of this through. Now look at you. _Look_ at you." He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes and blew out a heavy breath. "Doesn't matter. What's done is done. I just hope that being…being _this_ is everything you hoped it would be."

"It's not." The words were out before she knew it. That was happening again? How annoying. "I don't know who I am, what I want, what's right and wrong. I'm still trying to understand so many things."

He gave her a pointed look. "You _should_ know what's right and wrong, and I do kind of blame myself for how you turned out. You rushed into this situation without having any idea what the consequences would be for yourself and for the people around you. You wilfully turned yourself into a murderer. Did that even occur to you? Did it occur to you that you would break your mom's heart…that you would break my heart?" He took a few deep breaths and shook his head. "In the end, though, it's your life, and, like your boyfriend just said, your decisions are yours – as are your mistakes. My and Renée's parenting might've been sub-par or not. I don't know. Point is, you're old enough to know what you're doing and you're definitely old enough to shoulder some responsibility."

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Dad." She was too well-fed to be able to connect to the pain she should be feeling. Maybe she'd wished too hard to be able to disconnect from her humanity. Maybe she still needed to learn how to wish for things only after making sure that she knew exactly what she was actually wishing for.

"I'm sorry about a lot of things," he said, tried to smile, and failed. The result looked like a grimace. "Anyway, I, uh" – Again, he cleared his throat – "I really hope you get to be happy without killing any more people."

Briefly, she wondered whether he would turn her over to the authorities if he had the power to do so. Probably not. He'd undoubtedly try to convince her to turn herself in, though. It made sense to assume that despite his obvious affection for her, he'd never forgive her for the things that she had done.

"Thank you. I hope you get to be happy, too."

"Yeah. I'll, uh…I'll talk to your mom, explain that we found out how you really died." He scratched his neck again. "Don't worry about her. She's a lot tougher than you give her credit for – always has been." Briefly, he locked eyes with her, added, "I'll always love you, honey," turned around, and marched off.

Bella just stood there, petrified, watching him leave.

* * *

 **3** **Leah woke up slowly, gradually. She had no hurry,** because her sleep had been deep and black and dreamless, and there was something about reality she remembered not wanting to return to. Still, she woke up despite her wishes, slowly but inexorably. Finally, she found herself back in her body. She was lying in a bed, and sunshine was shining onto her face. Everything hurt, but it wasn't nearly as awful as it had been last evening.

That was when she drew in a tremulous breath that had her chest sting like there was broken glass in there. "Ow." There was a knock on her door. She blinked, meant to answer, but her voice was broken. After clearing her throat, she managed to croak out, "Come in." It wasn't too hard to guess who that would be.

True to form, Yuppie Vamp stepped into the room gingerly, closing the door behind himself. "How are you feeling?"

Despite her discomfort, smiling was not hard. "I'm better." Again, she cleared her throat. "Can you help me sit?"

"Of course." Carefully, he propped her up, piled up all the pillows available, and helped her lean back again. "If you're comfortable with it, I'd like to check your burns and your chest wound."

Her eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. "Do you honestly believe I care whether you see me naked? You already have – multiple times. No need to make a production out of it."

"Actually, I was thinking about how stubborn you are about accepting help," he said, looking amused.

Pain or no, she had to snicker at that. "Sorry. Snapping at people is a force of habit."

"It's not a problem." After scrutinising her for a couple of seconds, he said, "Let me get you a glass of water."

"I need a shower, too. I must be so gross right now."

He went into the bathroom and came back in a flash, said, "You're not, and I don't care," handed her the glass, and sat down at the edge of the bed. "The peace treaty has been negotiated, written down, and signed." The corners of his mouth curved up in a subtle smile. "It's over."

"It's over," she repeated idly, sipped some water, and took another painful, deep breath. "Can't believe our little scheme worked."

"It did, and better than I thought it would." He shook his head, not even trying to mask his incredulity, and wiped a strand of his dark hair from his smooth, pasty forehead. "There's a cure for dhampir infection, now. I can hardly believe it."

"Oh, so Albino Asshole actually got cured?"

"He did, and in case you're wondering: he will have to answer to the crimes he committed once we're back home. I don't know what it'll entail, but it won't be pleasant, and it'll take a good long while until Aro is willing to pardon him. As one of the two co-leaders, Caius should've known better, and now, an example will be made of him."

"Good. He deserves it." Her stomach panged. There was the question she was afraid to ask, the question she _really_ wanted an answer to. Gathering all her courage, she said, "How's Seth?" timidly. The tone of voice sounded weird coming out of her mouth, even to herself.

Again, he nodded. "It worked with him, too. He woke up and couldn't remember anything that happened for the past week. He's sleeping now." After a small pause, he added, "He asked about you."

Shifting her weight uncomfortably, she said, "Oh." Wow. Eloquent. She only just refrained from rolling her eyes at herself.

The look he gave her was sympathetic. He reached out to touch her shoulder, hesitated, but then did it anyway, if only for a brief moment. "I'm not saying that the cure magically took care of the issues the two of you obviously have, but the corruption caused by Renesmee is gone. He's back to being a regular teenager."

She snorted dry laughter and grimaced. "Ouch, that hurt." Even she didn't know precisely whether she only meant the physical kind of pain. They just sat there in silence for a while, looking at each other. Finally, she said, "So…everyone's just gonna go home and go on about their business as if nothing happened."

"No. There's the punishment for Caius, for one. You'll also be pleased to hear that Aro decided to outlaw the killing of any sapient creature for any reason other than self-defence."

Again, she arched her eyebrows. "Really?" When he nodded, she exhaled sharply. "Wow. That's, truth be told, a lot more than I expected."

The expression on his face grew shrewd. "It was more than I expected, as well, but there simply _has_ to be an upside to Jasper not getting torn to pieces and thrown into a fire."

Chuckling sardonically, she said, "Yeah. That. You just had to go and remind me of _that_ , didn't you?"

The sun had disappeared behind a cloud when he'd walked into the room. It came out again now, shining in through the window; every inch of his skin that was exposed – face, neck, throat, hands, wrists – exploded in a million bright sparkles. He clearly saw her squinting, said, "Oh, I'm sorry," and meant to stand up to pull the heavy curtain shut.

"No, don't," she said, grabbing his wrist with her free hand. "You don't have to hide yourself – not from me."

"It's no big sacrifice. The sparkling is stupid, anyway."

She let go of him and crossed her arms. "It's part of what you are, so don't say it's stupid. Anyway, you may have to hide it from the world out of necessity, but not from me. It's totally okay to just, you know, be yourself when you're with me." Chuckling awkwardly, she added, "As schmaltzy as that might sound."

"It doesn't sound schmaltzy," he said. His smile returned. "And thank you."

* * *

 **4** **After Caius woke up and was back to his usual hateful and paranoid self,** without showing any sign of being infected, Irina needed a moment alone. She headed outside, to the beach, and just stood there in the sunshine, looking out at the ocean. Corin and the twins had cleaned up the place, removing all remnants of last evening's events, pulverising them and dumping them in the water. The crisis was solved. Everyone who was still alive would end up walking away. Leah's cynical little comment was a little off the mark, though: not everyone got to live. They'd got there a little too late, didn't they? Irina and Aro? She didn't get to help Renesmee. Now, the girl's remains were floating in the water, crushed into a trillion atoms of ash and dust.

Looking down at her sparkling hands, Irina searched for signs of corruption and found none. Her own infection had taken a little while to cure itself, but in the end, it did. She was free. Well, she was back to the way she'd been before all this madness started, at least, which was much more than she had expected. That was something to be truly grateful for, and she was. Also, she could now finally, _finally_ do something useful instead of just raining death and misery on everyone she cared about. She could actively contribute, make the world a little bit _better_ through her actions, and not worse.

Laurent. Vasilii. Lyubomir. All dead. All gone forever.

She let her hands sink again, closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply the heavy, humid, salty, cold sea air. No, Irina Horváthová had never been a nature person whilst she has still been human. Things changed, though. Everything was constantly in motion, shifting. She hoped that even frozen in time, even undead, she would be capable of changing, too. That was when she heard steps approaching.

"I really wanted to save Renesmee," she said quietly.

"You can't save everybody," Aro said, sounding genuinely kind. "The sooner you understand this, the less you'll get your heart broken in the future."

"I know," she said, opened her eyes, and turned around to look at him. "Thank you for letting me help. I originally came here with revenge on my mind, and that was so, so selfish. My whole existence as a vampire has been a parade of self-centredness. During the past few weeks, I've learned to understand how horrible my behaviour used to be – how destructive. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to turn my life around."

"I'm the one who's grateful, dear," he said, smiling. It was radiant, outshining the sun-induced sparkling of his skin. "You don't know how valuable your contribution is. I really hope you'll choose to stay with us permanently."

She stared at him out of wide eyes, baffled. "You'd allow me to leave once you made sure that the cure for dhampirs doesn't wear off?"

For a moment, he just returned her look thoughtfully, but then simply said, "Yes."

Her sisters came to mind. Of course she wanted to see them again, to hear their voices, to just be close to them. However, she now had the chance to be useful, to save lives. After all the lives that she had taken, she owed it to the world to actually be a force for good; she owed it to herself, as well. She returned his look, felt warm despite the air's chill and despite her un-beating heart, and decided that her drive to be a better person wasn't the only reason she wanted to move on. It was time to let go of the past, of the pain, of all the sadness. She wasn't a part of nature anymore, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a meaningful life. It really was time for Irina to start living – really living.

She said, "I don't want to leave. I want to stay with you."

In a flash, he was standing right in front of her. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. When his fingertips brushed her earlobe, he beamed at her. "Then let's go home and do some good."

* * *

 **5** **It was important that things be wrapped up as quickly as possible,** and that the vampires return to Volterra. Still, Demetri asked that they wait a day or two until Leah was able to get out of bed; she knew this because he'd told her so. She'd moved from the resort to her mother's house, along with Seth. All the vampires except Demetri went to stay at the Port Angeles hotel. Everyone else stuck around for the nonce, keeping a low profile. Seth recovered from his ordeal remarkably well, and no worse for wear. Thankfully, he couldn't remember trying to murder her; at least that was what he claimed, which was just as well. He seemed embarrassed by his antagonistic behaviour toward her, and he should be; both of them agreed on this. Well, in the end, she really was just glad and grateful that he was okay, because all this time, she'd been so sure, deep down, that he'd suffer the same fate as Jacob.

Ah, Jacob. Maybe they could've saved him, too. Maybe the imprint had made it impossible to cure him, either way. They'd never know. Leah knew that it was pointless to brood over this, because back in Tijuana, no-one could've foreseen that there might be a cure for dhampir infection on the horizon. Still, she couldn't help but wonder. Poor Jacob. Poor, poor Jacob. He'd been a brat, and he could be quite insufferable, but despite all his flaws, he'd just been a little kid with way too much responsibility on his shoulders. He'd deserved better than to get his brain melted by a half-vampire monster baby from hell.

Two days after Renesmee's death, Leah was almost healed, and it was impossible to keep her from getting out of bed. Therefore, it came as surprise to no-one that she offered to drive Demetri to Port Angeles, herself, when his time came to leave.

First, though, he wanted to say goodbye to the Children of the Moon.

They all stood by Leah's mom's car – a dark-brown 1998 Subaru Forester – not exactly looking at each other, every one of them a little at a loss.

"So," Blake said, smiling warmly at Leah. It was a beautiful sight. She held out her hand. "It was an honour to meet you and yours, Leah Clearwater. You're the only one we actually got to know a little, but if the other Quileute wolves are even half as brave and loyal as you, then you've got one hell of a pack."

None of Sam's pack were Leah's anymore. The thought just hit her. It was…oh, it felt like being high on sunshine. She laughed. The sound of it was carefree and young and full of life; she couldn't recall the last time she'd laughed like this, like she didn't have the weight of the world weighing her down anymore. The best part was, she didn't. Her body was still mending itself, and she was still hurting, but she'd take burns and a punched-through chest over being emotionally miserable any day. "I'll be sure to pass along the compliment. You were awesome, too. I'm so glad to know that there are other werewolves out there, kicking ass and taking names."

"Mostly, we just go to work, pay our bills, and grow wolfsbane," Ariel said, looking serious but sounding good-natured. He had an arm around Grace's shoulders. "But yeah, we do kick ass and take names, as a matter of fact."

Grace pinched his waist. "I like it when you're silly," she told him, and held out her right hand to Leah, who shook it gladly. "Let's stay in touch. I think we could really profit from a closer friendship, your people and us."

"I think so, too," Leah said, fished the car keys from her pocket, and unlocked the car. "But until then, I hope you guys have a great life." Without waiting for a reply, she hopped onto the passenger seat and pulled the door shut. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and giggled – honest-to-God giggled. Incredible.

A minute or so later, Demetri joined her, took the keys from her, started the engine, and pulled the car out of the parking spot. "I'd ask you what's so funny," he said, glancing at her, "but I'm still too surprised that you chose to ride shotgun of your own volition."

She tilted her head to the side, smiling broadly. "I already have the return trip to look forward to. I'm also still healing, and you don't get tired." Before he could reply anything, she added, "Besides, everything turned out so awesome, I promised myself two things: one, I refuse to be bitter about the fact that Creepula and Bell-Bell got off scot-free; two, I'm so surprised at my own survival that I won't throw myself into the jaws of death all the time anymore. Who knows, maybe I've even learned not to trample my fears and unwanted emotions down and face them, instead."

"Hope springs eternal," he said, glancing at her again. The sky was overcast; it started drizzling. "I got to say, I'm a tiny bit wistful that our adventure is over."

"Are you?" Leah pondered making a joke, but thought better of it. No, being dismissive would not do – not here, not now, not with him. Their little adventure really was almost at an end. He deserved better than awkwardness-masking sarcasm. "I am, too."

For a moment, they just drove on in silence.

At length, he said, "What are you going to do now? Generally, I mean."

That was an interesting question. She looked out the window, raised her right hand, and traced the trails of raindrops on the glass with her fingertips. "I'm gonna leave La Push," she said, after a while. "I went back because I was told that I was needed, and I'm pretty sure that I was. The thing is – and this will probably sound selfish – I want some time off. I want to find out what _I_ need – you know, get some distance, some perspective."

"It's not selfish. You do enough for the sake of others. You shouldn't keep running yourself ragged, and you really shouldn't keep running away from yourself. Believe me, your problems will always catch up with you."

"You're weirdly insightful; you know that?" She sat up straight and looked at him again. "And you're always right."

He smiled subtly. "It's a gift and a curse."

Snorting laughter, she said, "I'm sure it is."

* * *

 **6** **Demetri drove onto the hotel's car park, pulled into a free parking space, and turned off the engine.** "It's time…unless you want to come in and say goodbye to the others."

Leah made a face, snorted derisively, said, "I'll pass," and got out of the vehicle rather nimbly, considering her condition. At least it had stopped raining in the interim.

He did the same. "Are you sure you're fit to drive? I could-"

"Stop worrying. I'm fine. Everything's good." She circumvented the car and planted herself in front of him. One thing was for sure: she looked happy. Yes, she was paler than usual, there were dark rings under her eyes, and she had definitely lost weight, but she looked so much more contented than when he'd first met her. In fact, she couldn't stop smiling. It was a beautiful sight – kind, warm, and full of life. She was a beautiful person in every sense of the word, wasn't she?

"I believe you." He meant it, too.

"Hm," she made, crossed her arms, looked down at her shoes, and cleared her throat, before squinting up at him again. "You know, this doesn't have to be a permanent goodbye. I'm not just saying that because I had a moment of perfect clarity and decided to take some time off to find myself. I mean it. Maybe we can stay in touch – you know, help each other out. Team up in case you do find a different kind of vampire lurking in the shadows that doesn't sparkle in the sunshine, just like I found a different kind of werewolf. Stuff like that."

With all the huge changes going on in the supernatural world, it was a wonder that her words still managed to surprise him. Not for the first time, he wished he had a heartbeat. It was so much easier to understand one's own emotions when those emotions were expressed by physical reactions. Memories surfaced, playing before his mind's eye: Kalamata in the summertime, warmth, summer, family. With a friend like Leah, it was almost possible for a vampire to feel human again. Of course, he wouldn't say that to her without preamble. He'd never embarrass her on purpose, and she did have a somewhat strained relationship with her own feelings.

Instead, he said, "I'd like that."

"It's not like you don't have my number," she said, grinned, and shook her head, presumably at herself. "It's actually Irina's number, but I think she forgot that she gave me her phone, and I crashed mine against the tiles in Charlie's kitchen." Her good humour was contagious.

"I won't tell her if you don't. It'll be our little secret."

"Yes, it will." Her grin turned into a subtle smile. "Take care of yourself, Yuppie." Before he could say anything in reply, she placed her right hand on the side of his face and briefly, lightly kissed him on the cheek. "Take really good care of yourself."

For a few seconds, he just looked back at her, pensive, but then he smiled. It was a strange, unknown sensation, what he was feeling right now. Could a person be at the same time happy and melancholy? There was an expression for that, he remembered – a human expression: this was bittersweet. "You, too." With a heavy heart, he added, "Goodbye, Leah."

Clearly, she caught some of what he was feeling on his face, because she looked a little wistful, as well, all of the sudden. "Goodbye, Demetri."

He turned around and started walking away, but stopped and turned when she called him back. "Yes?"

A smirk – youthful and mischievous – lit her up her face. "I'll see you around."

Despite the tinge of sadness, he couldn't help but smirk right back. "Not if I see you first." He watched her get in the car and drive off, before he walked into the hotel to meet up with his own people. This was it. The adventure was over. It was time to return to real life.

* * *

 **7** **They were in the beautiful, modern, sleek private jet, heading to Italy.** It was somewhere over the North Atlantic – Bella had no clue where, exactly – when the sun started to set. It cast a fiery, orange glow over the sky and ocean – a beautiful sight, to be sure. She sat by a window facing north, and looked out into the dusk thoughtfully. Jasper was at the back of the jet, chatting with the twins. He was in a good mood, and for good reason, too. Despite his scheme blowing up in his face, the gamble had paid off. He was part of the vampire government, now. Sure, he wasn't allowed to murder indiscriminately anymore, but if Bella had learned anything about him, it was that he was highly adaptable and that he had a true gift for survival. He'd do fine. He'd probably even do great, if given half a chance.

Bella wasn't so sure that the same thing would apply to her.

At some point, someone took a seat next to her. It was Aro. "Why so glum?"

She sat up straight and shifted her weight in order to be able to face him. "I'm just trying to work through some things…you know, in my head."

"Hm," he made, nodded slowly, and then offered her a subtle smile. "Our memories being as they are, I remember what being new-born felt like. It was just so hard to find a balance between drowning in a maelstrom of emotions and being completely detached from humanity."

It wasn't necessary, but she blinked at him in confusion all the same. "Are you sure you can't read my thoughts?"

The remark elicited a little chuckle. "You see, my dear, I've always been quite talented at reading people by simply observing them. That ability has not gone away." He went serious. "When we are turned into vampires, we all go through the same process; you're no exception. The trick is finding the middle ground between emotional and sensory chaos and, on the other end of the spectrum, sensory clarity and psychopathy. I imagine you've been dabbling in both, trying to find out who you really are."

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Well, you don't have to choose between one extreme or the other. You'll never stop being a vampire, but you can choose to both protect yourself from guilt and be a decent person. For example, your near-sacrifice as you ran through the flames to kill your daughter was a decent act."

Human Bella would've blushed furiously at that. Vampire Bella just stared back at the emperor, expressionless. "Thinking back on it, I understand that my motivations were less than selfless. They always are."

"Nonetheless, it was a decent act," he said, sounding kind. "Focus on that. That's the person you can be if you choose it."

"I assume your restrictive diet helps you find balance?"

The smile returned; it was halfway between a smile and a smirk, actually – good-natured and almost boyish. "You assume correctly. Naturally, we'll have to find a way to keep you from killing humans. You do understand that?"

"I do," she said, and nodded. "And I'll manage. I don't want to be useless, anymore. I want to make my own decisions, and make them for the right reasons. Maybe that way, it will all have been worth it."

He gave her a curious look. "Even if this life is not exactly how you imagined it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she said, and looked out the window again. Charlie's goodbye came to mind. Charlie. Renée. They were lost to her forever. Maybe she'd learn how to mourn that fact properly, in time. Maybe she'd learn to miss them the way that they deserved.

* * *

 **8** **"…and so, we uncover the amazing, convoluted,** so-absurd-it-must-be-true story behind the Cullen crime ring, the death of Isabella Swan, and the fate of Charles Swan, her father."

June and Jerry were watching their Cullen-special on TV. With the help of Charlie Swan, Maria the Mexican Vamp, and Sam Uley, they constructed a very good story that relied mostly on circumstantial evidence and testimonies of those involved. Of course, Charlie's interview had been cleared with the FBI, first. The press didn't owe the feds anything, but neither June nor Jerry were in any way interested in legal troubles that might potentially arise. Also, cooperation was the flavour of the month, anyway, so why not go the whole nine yards and cooperate with the authorities, as well? It made their work easier, for one.

Currently, they were in his Brooklyn apartment, sitting on his ancient, frayed, and most awesome leather couch, watching their as-of-yet most popular video being sampled and commented on, on national television.

"Wow," he said, mouth half-full with the sandwich he was eating.

"I _know_."

"Look at us, all famous and shit."

She shook her head in incredulity. "Six million subscribers and counting."

"Also, we helped save the world."

"We did." She picked up the remote control from the little, yin-yang plastic coffee table, turned the TV off, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "And it was awesome."

"Next time you get any bright ideas, I'll tie you to the bathroom radiator," he replied, deadpan.

Laughing, she said, "Of course you will."

"You just watch me."

As they did so often, they spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence.

She didn't even have to switch the TV back on in order to remember her closing statement: "…and this is all we know about these amazing, incredible events. The mysteries of this particular conundrum might've been uncovered, but – to put it in lovely purple prose – the story is never over. The world keeps on turning, and something exciting and beautiful is always waiting around the proverbial corner. Whatever it is, and no matter how crazy it might get, we'll be there. We'll keep you all posted. Thank you so much for watching, and don't forget to subscribe!"

Right now, though, it was time to disconnect, switch off, and unwind. The world had been saved. Everyone had earned themselves some time off.

She took the empty plate out of his hands, placed it on the coffee table, and snuggled up against him. He put his arms around her and leaned his head against her voluminous hairdo. For now, the adventure was over. The story had been told. She closed her eyes and relaxed. Life was good. It could only get better.


	35. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 **Leah was sitting behind the wheel of her recently acquired 1987 Volkswagen Golf,** humming along to Duran Duran – the cassette had come with the car for free, to her delight. It was getting dark, but she could still enjoy the remnants of Maine's Indian Summer as she looked out her windshield. She was driving down Portland's Riverside Street, in search of the nearest supermarket. There was a motel close by, as well, and although she'd originally planned to scout out the area this evening, she decided to postpone it until tomorrow. It was always better to face murderous sparklepires during the day.

There were a lot of those running around, it turned out.

Didn't matter. She'd manage – so far, she always had.

Nine months had passed ever since she'd left La Push. She'd been on the road ever since. At first, she only drifted around, took an odd job here and there, left again for greener pastures. Three months into that, she'd run into her first sparklepire since the Renesmee snafu – a pompous, arrogant douche who'd set up shop in Riverside, Iowa, and who'd been courting a local, clueless chick.

Naturally, Leah had put the kibosh on that nonsense. The girl hadn't been too happy, but she'd get over it; she'd live, which was the whole point.

That was when she'd decided that she'd undergone enough soul-searching, and that she had found her true calling. Being her own boss was great; being able to contribute to public safety without having to answer to Sam or Jacob was even better. She hadn't exactly burned all her bridges, per se, but she had no intention of going back home any time soon. Her mother and brother missed her, as did Billy, Emily, Charlie, and a few others. They were doing fine without her, though, and she was doing excellent without them. So far, she'd eliminated five leeches who wouldn't listen to reason, and convinced three others that they could either play ball, or get in trouble with the Volturi. If it had been up to her, she'd have killed them, too, but the peace treaty was binding for her, as well, and word spread fast. The Volturi were coming down hard on criminals, and they had local help in the shape of angry wolf-people.

Sparklepires weren't the only monsters around, but they were the only ones Leah had permission to kill; human monsters had to be left to human justice. That was something Leah was perfectly fine with. She wasn't Wardo; she didn't believe that she had the right to decide over the life or death of anything that wasn't an unrepentant supernatural murderer. This was what following the law to the letter meant, anyway – vampire law and werewolf law.

When her phone rang, she switched off her music and took the call, not taking her eyes off the road. "Yeah?"

" _Hello, Leah. Am I catching you at a bad time?_ " Oh, that voice – polite, sonorous, and deceivingly British.

She didn't even try to suppress her good humour. "Hey, Yuppie. No, you didn't catch me at a bad time at all. I'm just on the road."

" _Got some specific destination in mind?_ "

Discreetly, she cleared her throat and nodded, immediately feeling stupid for it, since he couldn't see her. "I do, as a matter of fact. Some people have been disappearing in and around Portland, Maine, under very mysterious circumstances. Rumour is, there's a serial killer on the loose. I'm here to find out whether a vampire's behind it or if it's just some whack-job human."

" _I see_ ," he said, and hesitated. " _Well, then you're already busy_."

"There is such a thing as being too considerate, you know," she told him, not even mad at the smile in her voice. It felt good, talking to him. "Spit it out, son."

" _There's still no fooling you, is there?_ " His own tone was warm and good-humoured, too. That was nice. It was good to know that he was doing okay.

"Nope."

" _Well, it's come to our attention that there have indeed been a number of mysterious deaths in and around Portland. What you don't know is that some of the bodies have been recovered almost intact; they were all drained dry of blood_."

She sighed audibly and chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her neck, where Seth had bitten her, was itching its usual phantom itch, but both her hands were occupied. "Damn it."

" _It doesn't look like regular vampire killing, though. The forensic reports say that there were several puncture wounds in the victims' throats that are incompatible with vampire fangs as we know them_. _Strange residue of some kind of paralysing venom has been found inside the wounds, as well. No-one knows what to make of that._ "

Okay, that was weird. She whistled lowly. "Are we talking about a different kind of leech? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Never mind the fact that he had access to forensic reports. It was better not to delve into that one too deeply.

After another short instance of hesitation, he said, " _Honestly, we don't know. It could literally be anything. What we do know is that whoever is doing the killing, there's a method to it. It makes sense to assume that the killer is supernatural. Maybe there are several of them. We don't know anything for sure, though_."

Despite herself, she had to laugh. "And you want me to investigate."

" _Actually_ ," he replied, amused, " _I wanted to ask you whether you'd like to join me in my own investigation_."

She almost dropped the phone in surprise. "You're in Portland?"

" _I arrived this morning_."

"Well, in that case, I'll see you in, hm…an hour? Text me the address of wherever it is you're staying. I just need to grab a sandwich or something."

" _Will do_." After a few seconds of silence, he added, " _I'll_ s _ee you soon_."

"Damn right, you will." She disconnected the call and dropped the phone on the passenger seat. Looking ahead into the growing darkness, she couldn't help but grin broadly.

This might not be the life she had wished for before this whole werewolf business started, but by God, it was a _good_ life. It was was a big, beautiful world, and Leah was done feeling sorry for herself, was done making everything more difficult than it needed to be. There might be monsters around every corner, but for every one of those, there was a decent person to make up for it. The only way to stay afloat was to let oneself be carried by the stream, to just tackle life without wanting to beat it into a desirable shape. This was her life, and she was determined to make it a happy one. Everything else made no sense and was a waste of energy. She pressed the play button on her radio again, and the cassette whirred to life. The car was filled with music. She turned up the volume and shouted along.


	36. Afterword

**Afterword**

First and foremost, I would like to thank everyone who gave my little tale of woe the time of day. I write a lot, but I only just started publishing on the internet, so I'm not really used to having an audience outside of people I already know or the odd creative writing class colleagues. You invested your hours, you stuck with the story, and I am grateful for that. Thank you, also, for leaving comments, for telling me what you think and for leaving suggestions. I appreciate your thoughtful critiques a lot and I take them to heart.

This is why I wanted to explain what exactly motivated me to write this story, and what I intended it to be. I'm not sure I accomplished every goal I set for myself, but still, I'd like to explain where all of this came from. Basically, it came from me being an anti, but also from the outrage at least half the fan-base of these books felt when _Breaking Dawn_ was released. They had a lot of complaints, and all of those complaints were not only justified, but got completely blown off by the author and her brother – you know, the one who screens her mail for her. Yeah. Anyway, I don't intend to soapbox. What I do intend is to (again, wordily) elaborate on my reasons for writing this story.

 **Here's the tl; dr version, first: people didn't like** _ **Breaking Dawn**_ **. I myself thought it was abysmally bad. I had fun trying to address all the issues the fans had with it. Thank you for giving me the time of day!**

 **Here's the wordy version:**

So…let's get to it, then. As I wordily explained in the note at the start of chapter one, I set out to do the opposite of what Stephenie Meyer had done: I wanted to write an actual story with a plot and with character development – you know, something the actual _Twilight_ fans were expecting and what they, frankly, deserved. I'm not a fan, as you can obviously tell, and when I read the novels, I was well aware of the fact that they were a blatant Mary Sue wish-fulfilment fantasy. I knew that going in. I started reading them after the Sparkledämmerung, after Seth Morgan's infamous response to that very polite fan petition, after the _Breaking Dawn_ fallout. I'd never even heard of _Twilight_ before the first movie trailer came out, and it only caught my eye due to internet mockery, in the first place.

Mockery, however, has never been my intention with this fic.

I got to say, when I first read those books, I wilfully ignored the damaging messages, the abuse, the racism, the misogyny, the bad writing etc. I simply didn't care. It was a Mary Sue fantasy and it was fun – for me, at least. That being said, I understand the actual fans' rage at not only the dud that was _Breaking Dawn_ , but also at Meyer's rather infantile reaction to criticism. That wasn't so great, to put it mildly. Insulting and dismissing your detractors is bad enough; doing it to your fans is infinitely worse. As for you people who didn't like _Breaking Dawn_? You just didn't get it, apparently. Says so in the _Illustrated Guide_.

Most people who loved the books honestly believed that Meyer was writing a coherent tale wherein all elements had a narrative purpose. Turns out they were mistaken, and that made them angry – rightfully so. The fans deserved better. The fans deserved resolutions to the many plotlets that Meyer had introduced; they deserved to have at least some of their questions answered, instead of just having to swallow a half-arsed hand-wave for nearly every conflict established throughout the novels. Because that's what happened.

In short, the fans wanted Bella to have her happy ending, but they wanted her to fight for it, to face adversity, to grow as a person. They did not want to watch her prance about arrogantly à la Rose Potter, lord her superiority over everyone else, and then stand around doing jack shit and feeling awesome. They did not want everyone to just talk for five minutes and then go home. Of course they didn't want that. Nobody wants to slog through such a massive waste of time.

So that's another reason for me to write my story: I wanted to tell an actual story with a narrative and plot.

I've known for years that _Breaking Dawn_ has no plot to speak of, that the characters don't grow, and that Bella Swan is a stagnant shell of a protagonist who alternates between being horrifyingly OOC in Book II to being an obnoxious brat in Book III. Why did I write my own story _now_? Because I read the in-depth analysis of the entire _Twilight_ series (I refuse to call it a 'saga') on the LiveJournal community _Das Sporking_ , and the amount of fail that the sporkers responsible uncovered was so immense, it inspired me to, you know, think about what I would want as a resolution to the series.

It was meant to be an exercise in plotting and character development and not this huge monstrosity it ended up turning into, but I have to say that I enjoyed spending time in that universe, with those characters. I enjoyed picking up the heaps of lost potential and trying to sort them out and give myself and you lovely people something enjoyable. I was never actually a fan, but I do understand the fans' outrage at the terrible end to their beloved series. Writing a story without inserting oneself into it as an author avatar can do wonders in terms of preventing Mary Sue shenanigans, it turns out.

At first, I wanted to write the characters like Meyer intended them to be, but I quickly found out that I could not go through this with the Meyer-goggles on. Her heroes are murdering, sociopathic, pompous monsters who look down on everyone who isn't a vampire and who don't care a single bit about saving human lives. That's not what Meyer wanted to write, as she told us in numerous interviews, but she wrote it nonetheless. Think about it. Look at saintly Carlisle, who changed dying people (one of them a gang-rape victim and the other a woman who had tried to commit suicide), and then did nothing to stop them from murdering innocent human beings. He took no responsibility for the vampires that he created – none. All he did was frown disapprovingly whenever someone 'slipped up' (i.e. ate people), admonish them mildly, and then move the 'family' to a different place. That's it. They don't care. He doesn't care. Nobody cares.

Wardo himself became a serial killer for years on end, eating hundreds if not thousands of humans, and no-one did anything to stop him. He had no right to execute people, he could not have had all the information, and he _ate_ them. He ate them. Meyer's attempts at sanitising this are futile, because that's what he did. He decided that he had the right to be judge, jury, and high executioner, and he ate hundreds of human beings. There is no excuse for this that makes it any more – ha, ha – palatable. Alice 'slipped up'. Esme 'slipped up'. Emmett 'slipped up' and laughed about it. Rosalie brutally murdered the two guards protecting her ex-fiancé for no reason. They hadn't done anything to her. They were probably just glad to be working, and she broke their bodies without a second thought. Her comment? "Oops". Seriously, _oops_? Those people are dead and rotting in the ground because of her, and that's plain awful.

If it were intentional, this characterisation, I'd applaud Meyer, but we all know that it's not.

This is something I, as an anti, simply do not get: the nonchalant attitude toward murder the 'heroes' have, and how their author blatantly defends the slaughtering of human beings as being perfectly okay (again, see _Personal Correspondence #12_ for reference). Killing people is not a 'slip-up' or an 'oopsie'. It's murder. These vampires _eat people_ and it's treated like it's a tacky faux-pas instead of an unforgivable crime with unforeseeable consequences. I think that in this day and age, draining people of blood with impunity is a lot harder, and apart from the fact that everyone who takes a life deserves a comeuppance, they would undoubtedly get caught – hence the media / internet / FBI subplot.

Murder in fiction should be treated with the gravitas that it deserves. There should be consequences for that. There would be consequences for that.

That's also why I decided to have at least the vampire government use their brains and adapt to modern times, i.e. be mindful of human technology that could end up exposing them and getting them wiped out. Cooperation makes sense, but it's more than that. I don't think sparklepires are better than we are, or that they have the right to kill sapient beings. That's one of the main themes of my story. The way murder is excused and sanitised in _Breaking Dawn_ made me really want to address the issue, to present different ways of looking at it (take Jasper's defence of murder and Demetri's opinion, which is the exact opposite. You're welcome to draw your own conclusions). No, the fact that vampires survive on blood is not an excuse. We manage to rise above ourselves regularly. They should strive to do the same.

So, yes, this was another thing that was missing in _Breaking Dawn_ , which the fans and antis alike hated: no consequences for anything. That's the reason I made sure every action had a reaction in my story.

Anyway, on with the Cullens: Carlisle himself didn't kill anyone, but he sure as hell didn't try to stop anyone else from doing it, either. In _Breaking Dawn_ , the Cullens 'graciously' lend their cars to their charming cannibalistic guests, so that the guests can go and eat people outside the Quileute-protected radius. If the Cullens cared so much for human life, they would not have become an accessory to bloody murder. They'd at least feel bad about it. Instead, Bella just called mealtimes 'dicey'. What the hell.

Of course I was going to include this particular WTFery in the story.

Let's look at Jasper. He is easily the most frightening character Meyer ever wrote, and again, this was purely by accident. Keep in mind that he's supposed to be a good guy, reformed by the power of love or whatever. He spent about eight decades mass-murdering droves of people in Mexico and Texas, and he only stopped doing it once his side started to lose. That's it. He is a complete psycho. His death-toll alone numbers in the thousands, maybe even tens of thousands. I know I wrote him as being a sadistic fuck, and it got a bit self-indulgent at times, but that's really what he _is_. He's a mass-murdering psychopath who doesn't even know how to spell repentance.

Have you guys read _Midnight Sun_ and _Bree Tanner_? I have. Good Lord, the guy is _scary_. In _Midnight Sun_ , he has a vaguely paedophilic rape fantasy (and that's what it is, let's not kid ourselves on that front) that is exceedingly creepy and exceedingly uncomfortable to read. He also nonchalantly advocates killing Bella, by the way, in case you didn't know. This guy never, ever regrets murdering tons of people. Nothing in the text ever gives anyone the impression that he does, no matter what Meyer might claim in interviews. He's even good friends with vampires who still eat human beings, one of whom he wanted to murder – Charlotte. Charming.

There's that absolutely horrifying scene in _Bree Tanner_ , wherein he leads the titular character to a bonfire where all her friends are burning. He tells her to follow him with her eyes closed, and that he'll kill her if she opens them. She gets to smell the smouldering remains of her comrades-in-arms, whilst she is forced to sit there, unrestrained, and fight the urge to flee or attack, which Jasper is making worse with his power, completely on purpose. He very obviously wants her to give him the excuse to dismember her and set fire to her, and he very obviously enjoys psychologically torturing this girl. That's the kind of guy this character is. It's all in the text. I didn't make it up at all, even though I admit that I may have had a bit too much fun writing him.

The thing is, it would all be fine under different circumstances. A creepy, psychopathic, sadistic vampire is an interesting character in a vampire story. He could be used to highlight the alien nature of vampires when compared to humans. He could be a worthy antagonist, too. He could just be an unrepentant psycho who entertains the readers. However, that's not what Meyer intended. He's supposed to be a good guy, one of the angelic Cullens who can do no wrong. We're not supposed to be creeped out by him. We're supposed to approve of him.

We're supposed to approve of all the abysmally stupid decisions the Cullens make, too, such as their not bothering to investigate the obviously vampire-induced deaths in Seattle, because they thought it wasn't their problem. Nice to see how much you care about protecting humanity, guys! Yeah. We're not supposed to think that they are wasteful, snobby, racist, abusive wankers who do everything in their power to draw attention to themselves, and who do nothing to protect innocent people from harm. They're supposed to be the epitome of all that is good and wholesome, and boy, did Meyer not write what she intended to write. Her heroes are callous, inert, self-enamoured morons whose death-toll is staggeringly high, and who believe that remorse is for weaklings. That's what the text says, that's what _Personal Correspondence #12_ says, it's what the _Illustrated Guide_ says, and that's how I wrote them – without going into parody territory, because that was not my intention. At least I hope I didn't do that.

The same thing goes for the Volturi. Meyer wanted them to be tah ebulz, dictators and corrupt and moustache-twirling. Instead, what we got is a bunch of laid-back boys and girls who only care about two rules being kept: a) keep vampires a secret, and b) don't eat babies. That's it. In _Breaking Dawn_ , the intense power struggle wherein liberty wins over corruption and oppression didn't happen. What happened, instead, was that the Volturi came to investigate claims that a baby had been eaten. They spoke to the defendants, tolerated their antagonistic and bratty behaviour, came to the conclusion that no law had been broken (which is bullshit, but whatever), and then _they went back home_. What's so evil about that? They didn't _do_ anything. On the contrary: they were very, very lenient with Wardo's little tantrums, with Bella not being turned quickly, with Carlisle not keeping his creations in check. That's not villainous behaviour. And please don't trot out the busloads of tourists getting murdered in Volterra (which is stupid), because as of _Breaking Dawn_ , the Cullens are no better than that. They happily aided and abetted a whole bunch of murdering psychos, among which were charming people such as Amun, who'd once set himself up as a god and kept a harem of sex slaves. Any moral high ground the Cullens might've had? Gone in a puff of sugary smoke.

To say nothing of Bella. I think her arrogant and self-enamoured attitude in Book III of _Breaking Dawn_ speaks volumes.

There were other points of contention that fans and antis alike hated with the same intensity, such as the whole imprinting debacle. Meyer again claimed one thing and wrote another. She wanted to make us believe that as long as the imprintees weren't physically mature, the imprint wouldn't be sexual, but guess what? It is. It _so_ is. Meyer herself told us that imprinting is about guaranteeing strong offspring that carries the werewolf gene, and that, my friends, is sexual in nature because making babies is the ultimate endgame, here. You all know the term for watching over a child with the intend to have sex with him or her once they grow up. That attitude is generally frowned upon, to put it euphemistically, and for good reason.

What bugs me even more are the unfortunate implications of imprinting. The text itself tells us that the imprinter loses their personality, that this personality gets re-written to suit the imprintee's needs. They will do everything and anything the imprintee wants, except leave them alone. They lose everything that once made them unique, including love for other people, and all they care about is making babies with their imprintee. Imprinting erases all personal ambitions, all familial ties, all previous romantic ties. It doesn't matter if the imprinter already had a relationship and loved their partner dearly, because the imprint takes that away from them. It makes the imprinter be single-mindedly obsessed with a woman's genetic make-up; that woman's personality (or sexuality) doesn't even factor into it. Think about it, guys: the imprint would make gay people straight. It strips the imprinters of all their identity – social, inter-personal, sexual. They become pod-people. That's _horrifying_.

Also horrifying is the situation of the imprintee. Even if they did love the imprinter before the fact, their situation is still awful, and they are to be pitied. They can't change their minds about the relationship. They can't ever leave. Also, imagine you fall in love with a boy, and when this boy finally reciprocates, he's turned into a different person entirely. It's like he doesn't have a personality anymore. He doesn't argue with you, he always does what you say, watches the movies you watch, changes his opinions to match yours. His identity is gone. He has no life whatsoever outside of stalking you. You fell in love with a person who has wants and needs and, you know, a personality, not with an empty shell who will stalk you and physically threaten you if you ever plan to leave. All of the things you grew to love about that person are gone now, and you are forever stuck with them, from now until the day you die. Their choice was taken away from them, and so was yours.

That's not love. That's the plot of a _Criminal Minds / Supernatural_ crossover. None of this is portrayed in a bad light, though, in-universe. It's supposed to be the epitome of love, the purest and deepest and bestest evah! Meyer's fans are not stupid, and they did not buy it. Again, they deserved better – they really did. It's horrifying, it's bad, it's insulting, and it's infuriating, too.

It's insulting on so many levels, also because the romance was the entire point of the series. It was the main plot. With the Jacob / Renesfail imprint, the entire love triangle was rendered moot and pointless. It was swept under the rug. It was hand-waved away, meaning the fans wasted their time caring about the characters, about the love triangle, about everything. There were no consequences. There was no actual resolution that involved any effort, sacrifice, growth of character, or anything like that. There was just this stupid imprint crap, and that was a slap in the face of everyone who actually cared about the story and the people involved. Nice.

With all that in mind, and with Meyer's general 'humanity sucks' attitude (again, not an exaggeration; you can look that all up), I wanted to create a spitefic that didn't exactly mock _Breaking Dawn_. It was supposed to be an actual story with a plot, with three-dimensional characters, and with satisfactory resolutions instead of wanky hand-waves. As an anti, of course I latched onto Leah Clearwater, who is basically the only three-dimensional character in those books (with the possible exception of Charlie Swan), and who just rocks our collective socks. We all love her, because she is the only one who refuses to kiss Bella's sparkly behind, who keeps soldiering on despite the awful abuse heaped upon her, and who actually takes active steps to improve herself.

I wanted to do her some justice, instead of declaring her defective for being sterile (and Meyer didn't even answer the question whether this condition is permanent or not. That's not cool), which is so offensive that I can't even. Jasper and Bella have personalities, too, just not the ones Meyer wanted them to have, so writing them was fairly easy. In the case of Irina and Demetri, it was almost like writing original characters, because they were both cardboard cut-outs in canon. Needless to say, I had fun giving them backstories and personalities that included motivations and fears and such.

There's a lot of lost potential in the actual novels, and the fact that fanfiction / spitefics give us the opportunity to address that, to let our imaginations flow, to share ideas, and to actually think about what we're writing is just the best. I got to spend a year getting to know the characters, getting immersed in the world, and reading your thoughts on my story, and that was fantastic. I'd gladly return to this universe, and maybe I will – one day.

All in all, those were the inspirations, thoughts, ideas, and intentions behind the concept of my story. Personally, I'm rather happy with the result, and I sincerely hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. In any case, thank you very much for bearing with me and for sharing your opinions with me. They are appreciated.

See you guys around!

 **The Necroposter, 23.10.2016.**


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